Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. So you took my womb away, you took my baby! So I could be a monster! Because she was a monster! We are monsters!” He grabbed the top of the cannon away from her face. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. "Can't you take me with you?" urged the voice; "I'll make it well worth your while.
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