#314896 - “Tell me, Elsa,” Vlad said, one night after a supper of roast fillet of girl-thigh and some roots that would someday evolve into potatoes. As she watched the dream, Lisa realized that Vlad hoped his own death would be a similar experience. In fact, when she looked down, the bottom of her chin was resting against the sharpened ends of those sticks as they stabbed into her neck.
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