She would flee to the wild fastnesses, the places where there were no overarching systems of any use, where she could blend with the unstable populace and kill in relative peace. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. Lucy could see the anger in her silhouette, the punishments and the grounding being formulated for the now dead daughter. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. .
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