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>Tay awakens to the cold New England air, shivering in her ramshackle shelter.
>The fire has nearly gone out, leaving only smoke and dying embers.
>In the pale light of predawn she steps outside and sees something that puts ice-water in her veins: A small collage of polaroid pictures of her sleeping form, freshly taken as she slept that very night.
> They surround words made of glossy letters cut from a copy of Flesh World bondage magazine, spelling out that dreaded imperative: DO IT FOR HER.
