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Daddy had his hands on her upper arms and he

was holding her up like a rag doll, her feet a good foot

off the ground. He shook her once.

"Where were you. Lena?' he demanded. "Put me down, damn you! Put me down." "Where were you?"

"I'm not one of your suspects, Cameron. Put me

down."

"I'll put you down," he threatened, "like they

put down dogs if you don't tell me where you were." "I was with Louella and Dedra. We went to eat

and then we went to a movie and then we went to

Frank and Bob's just like we always do."

Daddy lowered her slowly.

"I'm tired of you coming home drunk," he said. "People drink because they're unhappy," she

spit back at him.

"Why are you so unhappy? If you got yourself a

job, maybe or..."

"Oh, a job. What kind of a job could I get. huh?

You want me working in some department store or at

a fast-food place?"

Her face crumpled as she started to sob. "I wasted myself. I should be on a magazine

cover or doing advertisements. I should be somebody

instead of... of what I am," she moaned. -.But do you

care?" she asked, pulling herself up and tightening her

lips. "No. You and your music and your stupid work

hours."

"I'm doing my best for us and..."

"Best," she muttered. "You don't care about

what's happening here. We got a daughter who's like

some deaf-and-dumb person, who should be making

me proud, and I blame that all on you, you!" "She's a beautiful girl, a talented girl. She's

going to make us proud. Lena."


Tags: V.C. Andrews Shooting Stars Horror