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Victimo.3:Quasimodo-3 (5 / 7)

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        "Helpme."

        Reyasatup,reagforthezipperoheoversizedpawsmadeitnearlyimpossible—herfingerskeptslippingoffthetialpull.

        Juliahergaze,silentlyaskingforfirmation.

        "Justhurry,"shesaid,impatienceflickeringinhervoice.

        Hishandstrembledastheybrushedthroughtheplushfur,finallyfindingthezipper.Long,fine-bonedfihekindthatcouldhavebelooanartist—ifnotforthemottledburnscarsscatteredacrossthemlikewhispersofpastpain

        Reyawriggledfreefromthemascotsuitlikeacicadasheddingitsshell.Shefinallyslippedherhandsoutoftheheavypawsanddidn''''''''twasteamoment,tuggingupthehemofhisshirttorevealfirm,leanmusclebeh—betterthanshehadexpected.

        Herfiracedthemapofoldinjuriesetchedintohisskin,movingwithacurious,almostreverenttouch.

        Aflickerofsadnesspassedthroughhiseyes,buthedidn''''''''tpulway.

        "I''''''''m...notgood-looking."

        Reyanodded,matter-of-fact."You''''''''redefinitelydifferentfromtheothers."

        Julianblinked,caughtoffguardbyherbluntness.Afainthurtcrossedhisface.

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