"Someone else?" I asked.
"That's right," the man said. "We only make them one at a time." Then he smiled at me with his thin, mean mouth and looked me right in the eyes.
"Got any enemies?" he asked. "Got anyone who really hates you?"
That's why I have run away from home, Mum and Dad. I don't want you to see me losing my arms and legs. I realized today that I really love you. Up till now I never cared, as long as I got what I wanted out of you. But now I'm scared about how you would feel if you saw me dying, in hospital, like Cynthia did.
The only hope I have is that whoever gets the biscuit next will be kind-hearted and forgiving.
Like Cynthia.