"I kept things casual," said Bob. "She'd just been raped. I try not to hit on women who've just been raped, regardless of what you may have heard." Do...'t get snippy with me!" snarled Hopkins, who'd so far gotten nothing that would stick very well. The motherfucker HAD solved a murder, after all, even if nobody had known it WAS a murder up until then. And THIS piece of work was the cop who brought her in, wearing sweats and a headband. The motherfucker didn't even have his badge on him when he. Suddenly, the door swings open. Everyone looks to see Miss West stoodthere, positively seething."You...bitch!" she snarls. She's completely lost it. Sprinting across thecorridor (I don't know how she manages that, she clearly has bettercontrol of her heels than me) she lunges at me, slapping me hard acrossthe face. Out of instinct, I strike back, the hypnotic suggestions in myhead reducing my lethal punch into an equally feeble slap. She slaps meagain, and I give another in return. The audience. "Was I really on them?" I asked."Yes you were," she said.I could see she had a slight smile as she looked at me in the rearviewmirror."When was I on them?" I asked."Oh, when you were younger," she said.That didn't help me at all, I thought."It shouldn't matter to you that much Bobbie," she said. "You don't needto worry about things like that, just worry about being pretty and doingwhat your told. We all know you aren't smart enough to think about whatyour sister told you and being pretty and. She'd never thought she'd actually be a cheerleader, for that matter."Hi. I'm Ted."Brenda looked to her right, and then up. She was short, at five-five. The boy standing beside her had to be six feet tall."I'm a sophomore," he said, staring down at her. "You're Brenda ... right?"She nodded, swallowing.He handed her another cup of that delicious punch. She was suddenly thirsty and gulped it."You want to see the rest of the house?" he asked. The way he said it made it seem like it would just be a.
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