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You're allergic to wasps," she says. "How do I know you aren't some bad spirit? Oh, poetry Mom. I wish you were here. I mean, really here." "I can't tell you what to do, but now you know. Now you can't say you didn't know. Why do you let yourself be so degraded? You are living in limbo. He's sucking your lifeblood away." God, she is so smug. Who the hell does she think she is? "You are a fine one to talk. What about you? How you treated me? He's poetry my family. You aren't. You fucking knew poetry what that pedophile was doing to me." I remember the first time Jasper kissed me, sucked me into him. My mouth opened to his and I could taste his mossy breath. His tongue searched and tasted and then pushed against my loose tooth. He lifted the tooth with his tongue and wriggled it. And I giggled. "Well," she says, "I did know.
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