Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. I cannot do it, David. “—but this cannot be. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. She had very frizzy hair indeed, very black eyebrows, a profusion of metallic adornments about her neck and waist, and an engaging smile. She had been carrying them, he assumed, but then again the school had some particularly talented kids among the usual ruffians. It was a shame that they had made such a fuss, she thought as he arrived.
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