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“Let’s test her, Frank,” she said with a tight smile.
n some corners of America, a conspiracy theory floats about asserting that the Newtown Elementary School massacre never happened.
Besides guiding my way, the roar of the gas-powered generators that powered the lights conveniently concealed the crunching sounds the fallen leaves made as I moved through the forest.
When I reached the edge of the ridge, I saw, laid out below me, the front of the school, as well as the parking lot.
They’re gonna like that sweet little body of yours.” Sue paled.
“I don’t care if you threaten to tell my father about me or not.
“I detest you spoiled little rich bitches,” she snarled. Until I learned how soft and gutless you are.” Sue was stunned.
She writhed and twisted on the table, but the rod went in easily. All day, police had blocked the press from photographing the school and the scene in front of it, including the removal of victims’ bodies.A few photographers, I heard, had tried to get through the woods to the school, but were caught and thrown out. They would betray their friends, tell secrets, promise to be good in the future. She stared in fascination at the innocent-looking metal rod. It was about an inch and a half thick and two feet long. It was a magic wand that made people do whatever the French wanted them to do. “Let’s give the little bitch a light jolt to make her realize we mean business,” Glenda said coldly.