Frantically pulling against her bonds, Halle pleaded, "Please. Please, no." Her voice jumped an octave, "Why are you doing this?"
"Why?" I crooned, grinning beneath the Purge mask.
I splashed petrol around her, watched it soaked into the scattered books—kindling for her pyre. I stepped close, and Halle's panic-filled struggles intensified.
I grabbed her head, pushed torn pages and rags into her mouth, held them in place with phone cords.
Then I whispered, "Liar, liar."
Her eyes, filling with recognition and guilt, turned to horror as my match fell.
Liar, liar pants on fire. Hanging by a telephone wire!
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