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I was trapped in that house, and they wouldn't set me free. We had food and drink and beds and a relatively normal existence, studies and correspondence courses and things, but we wanted out. Me more than anyone. Out out out.

I managed to rig the truck but I'm not sure to what end. I had my bags packed and then I realized that I left my cigarettes behind, so I went back for them, big mistake.

Harry caught me, Harry. And before I knew it I was engaged in some sort of double entendre with him...I had this uneasy feeling that if he was wittier than me, I'd have to sleep with him.

'I just wanted out, you know', I said
'There is no out, girl. If you hadn't learned anything here I would have thought you'd have learned this'.

He was almost leering at me when he said this, and I leaned over and bit his arm, took a whole chunk of flesh, bloody and warm in my mouth. It didn't come off but he gasped and called me wench and bitch and sneaky little lady and twerp, fucking skuzzy arsehole.

I JUST WANT OUT, I said, and ran off without my bag and without my smokes and left him nursing his wounded hairy arm.