She could not say to Michelle that the Vorsack house had more than just a little tinge of “bad”. Then, her body still tense with the atoms of anger, she sat down upon the edge of the bed and rocked from side to side. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son.
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