![]() ![]() Beyond it, a field of wildflowers bursting with every color, but the blues were the ones that were perfect enough to hurt feelings. Though it was enclosed and provided views out onto Ruth Halifax's garden. Oh, she slept on the back porch with the animals. She climbed out of the pallet and rolled her eyes at the hounds that lay on the floor by her feet. The Halifaxes each had their own way of communicating their displeasure, some less cruel than others. The sky was still dark, but she laid in her hay pallet an extra moment, knowing it could cost her. It became her secret language, living just below the audible one, deeper behind her tongue. ![]() She learned to do that, whisper low enough in her throat that an insult could be thrown and the target would be none the wiser. ![]() She mumbled the curse to herself, but it was meant for other people. But yes, there it was, snapped around her ankle, clinking nevertheless. This house is a fucking burial place, Maggie whispered, before it was time to go to the other room, the kitchen that she was chained to even though not a single link could be seen. ![]()
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