Throwing the blanket over his left arm and shouldering the iron bar, he again clambered up the chimney; regained the Red Room; hurried along the first passage; crossed the Chapel; threaded the entry to the Lower Leads; and, in less than ten minutes after quitting the Castle, had reached the northern extremity of the prison. No one is safe. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical.
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