here. It was a bleak concrete island surrounded by cornfiel
and lighting cigarettes. The air outside was da
our hours. She stood near a vending machine, counting the crumpled bills in her pocket
he glass coil. It looked dry and unap
ffee from a styrofoam cup and eating a pack of peanuts. He wasn't looking at her
pled the bag. He glanced over an
looked down at her shoes
llar bill into the slot. He pressed a button
t her. He just walked past her and, without breaking str
k and pulled the package ou
king away, his back
as sugary and artificial, but it tasted like heaven. She at
"Route 402 to Blackwood
on her jeans and m
stopped abruptly. He turned around so fa
, looking up at h
e?" he demanded. His voi
frantically. She wa
machines, and now you're here," Hoyt said, step
s a threat. The idea was laughable-she was a broken girl
nger at the sign above t
looked at the sign, then ba
d. It was a lie, but it was t
know everyone in Blackwo
voice. She reached into her pocket for her notepad, but
," he
r hand still
g her. He seemed to decide she wasn't an immed
aid, his voice cold. "
ler connector bus. Eva waited
row, his back against the corner so he could see t
ck of her head. It was a physical weight, h
pressing down hard. She started to draw the line of his jaw, the anger in his eyes. Drawing was the only
fferent. He wasn't just a monster. He was a guard
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