My Hand, My Song, My Freedom

ulent, a stark contrast to the gene

d, his eyes cloudy wh

hand reaching out. "Li

hand. It fe

carlett

d, confusion wa

ila? Is she okay? Tel

false sympathy. "Lila... she doesn' t want

imself up. "No. She' s just

Mr. Beaumont walke

made her feelings quite clear. She has no i

her, then at me, deni

the words I' d rehearsed, wo

man at all." My eyes dropped pointedly to the heavily bandaged, inert shape

hed hi

wning

o with physical pain, darted down to his legs. He

e agony and despair as the full reality of his br

y phone, capturing a short, shar

le somethin