She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. Her heartbeat raced, her limbs turned to water, and it was only by a miracle and the strength of the arms that held her that she remained standing on her feet. “I’ll try to stop by. ” Michelle’s voice lowered to a whisper. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength.
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