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CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

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"Let's sit over there," Cloe pointed to a small park farther away, in the front block where she knew the cameras couldn't catch them. She knew well the range of the cameras in the block and didn't want anyone at the office to see them talking.

She felt heavy-hearted and had a bitter taste in her mouth, a sense that something was going to happen, that Shay would say something that would hurt her deeply.

She walked, and the girl followed closely.

They sat on a bench in the square. Shay crossed one leg over the other, and before she could say anything, Cloe asked her:

"Why are you dressed like that?"

"Like what? Like you used to dress before looking like this freak show?"

She started hitting hard. Cloe felt the blow and saw that it wasn't her imagination that the girl was dressed like her, imitating her.

"I don't look like a freak show."

"No? Do you seriously not think you've looked like a freak show for years? Don't you look in the mirror, girl?"

"Why do you pursue me, why have
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