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Mad John halted his steps. He turned around and twisted Clara's neck up to gaze at him.

She wanted to scream at his face, but instead, when she saw his eyes flickering over her every being, she resisted. There was a deep seething hatred in his eyes, a hatred that she would never have bothered to look at or feel disturbed by if she was on the other side of this aggression.

It was like a cruel joke. A one-sided humour that she felt the world was playing on her. Here she ...

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