You know, I've lived a long time," he told me, massaging my calf more firmly now. "And I met a lot of people. But I ain't never met a woman made me want to beat her to death as often as you.

I lay there, no longer fighting, since my head was spinning too much. And because I wasn’t going to win anyway. And because I kind of liked the feeling of sensual captivity, at least by this particular jailer.

I'm fine," I told him tersely. "Of course you are. You're one of the strongest people I know." It took me a second to process that, because he'd said it so casually. Like he was talking about the weather or what time it was. Only Pritkin didn't say things like that. His idea of a compliment was a nod and to tell me to do whatever it was I'd just done over again. Like that was usually possible. But that had sounded suspiciously like a compliment to me.

Prevarication, how divine! I always did get along better with sinners.

He wasn't that good looking, he had the social skills of a wet cat and the patience of a caffeinated hummingbird

My one-time roommate Claire had inherited the house from her uncle, and when she went off to bigger and better things, she’d left it in my care. And it needed a lot of it. Most importantly, it needed a new roof. There was a worrying stain on the ceiling of my bedroom that had started out roughly the shape of Rhode Island, but now looked more like North Carolina. Another few more days of rain and it was going to be Texas. And then it wouldn’t be anything at all because the battered old shingles were going to cave in on my head.

I thought there was a good chance the fridge was possessed. It was subtle about it, but I had its number. I knew its ways. Oh yes.