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Roylsden #333


I've no protection against his pummelling, jagged words, my arms are trembling, too weak to lift. My sobbing robs me of breath: I'm trying to shout, but can't.
"Out! You are unwelcome in this child!"
My throat gurgling, I try to scream but can't. Then he raises his gun and pulls back the hammer.
So this is death?
Poor Grandma, I'm sorry.
I screw my eyes tight shut.
Something makes me open them quickly as a figure suddenly flies between me and McGinley, throwing him to the ground just as a flash spits fire from the barrel of his gun.

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