She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. She saw herself in very much Vivie’s position—managing something. You don’t understand, Lucy, they just aren’t like that. Hidden menace; a prescience of something dreadful about to happen. She recoiled. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. However, it don't signify.
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