All that’s left of Annabelle is the red hair and a singular bright green eye. Her skin is stark white and her body is leaner, longer. Built more lik... a marathon runner than a gymnast, though her muscles are no less wiry and powerful.“The little bitch took an eye.” Wendigo gestures to the ruby red implant on her right side. “So I played my favorite kind of game with love of her life.”My head snaps back around to Laila.“Didn’t know, did you?” Wendigo’s giggle is motor oil and gravel splashed with. A squalid, vermin-infested sty.They had laughed at him today. At Suzie's Whorehouse, out on Route 117. When he was living here, he'd been going there every fucking Wednesday for almost a year before he came home to his cold wife. He'd never been laughed at before. It was humiliating.He couldn't figure it out. For more than a month now he'd been putting the wood to Marcy like John Henry drove railroad spikes. All fucking day long, day after day. He felt like he had been reborn, come into his. More

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