I shrugged. f being watched, of people wanting to hurt you, even —in extreme cases of advancedparanoia—people plotting to kill you. The hair on my body stood to attention, and it felt like something was trying to crawl up the back of my skull, because the nape of my neck was prickling so badly. He had torn up his undershirt, and stuffed it around his middle, but ithad done no good.
His gaze flicked to the folders, then settled serenely back on me. She was staring at nothing. You are thereason, in this culture, for violence and striking back and murder. He strode across the carpet and went to one knee in front of me.
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