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“You’re not going home,” he says flatly “You’re all the sa Callu and let them have it and use it and believe it’s theirs forever Then you rip it out of their hands again, just because you feel like it Well, that’s not happening”

Oliver goes back to his tool bag and pulls out a coiled rope

I don’t think that’s a tool bag, not really Because why the fuck does he have rope in it?

I think Oliver’s been planning much more than a home repair for quite a while now

I try to run, but I can barely stand It’s easy for Oliver to trussin my mouth

He crouches down in front of me, his face inches from mine

“Here’s what you have to understand, Aida,” he says, his voice low and crooning “I can’tto anyone else”

I

“What?” Oliver says

I say it again, no louder than before

Oliver leans in even closer

I rear my head back and smash my forehead into his nose, as hard as I can

“O, FUCK!” Oliver howls, cupping his hand over his nose as blood pours through his fingers “Fuck, Aida, you BITCH!”

Oliver hits h the floor into thick, quiet, darkness

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