Saw the villain through the keyhole. “Troubles, my friend,” she exclaimed lightly. An enormous poster almost covered one side of the wall—the poster. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. She moved her hand off of his knee, deliberately slow. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. “Yes.
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