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She’s heard it said that falling for a straight girl is a right of passage for a budding young lesbian, but Abigail’s never been very good at letting things go. She is good at playing the wolf in sheep's clothing, however, and when it comes to hunting, she’s a chip off the old block.
Marissa would be at her house on a Friday night, talking shit about her parents, talking about various cute boys, and all Abigail can focus on is the heart beating away in her chest. Marissa casually touches her, and immediately she remembers how her hands had felt crushing the neck of a girl with brown hair and brown eyes, feeling that familiar pulse stutter and stop under her hands. Marissa sleeps over, and Abigail tucks her into bed and kisses her temple just like one of her victims.
She couldn’t have Marissa, but she could have a girl that looked just like her, and another, and another, and another, until she’d stop wanting.