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“Please, arrest me. I’d rather go to jail than go back to that house…”

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his peripheral vision.

That sweltering afternoon, I had casually strolled over, offering him a brightly frosted vanilla cupcake and a warm, deliberately disarming smile. Leo’s pale blue eyes had darted frantically, not toward the sugar, but back toward the towering facade of his house. Before his trembling, narrow fingers could even graze the blue frosting,continue reading …

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