The unpleasant oily chill of fever overtook her body, and she watched in horror as Sebastian carried her to his bed on his shoulder like a sack of flour. “His stipend forbade it,” she said, and seemed to fall into a train of thought. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical. No, this was not reasonable. Besides, it was under false pretences. " "Monster!" cried Winifred. " "So it is, child.
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