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Dying: A Short Story

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Dying was never a good thing, especially when they were someone that you had kwon for such a large percentage of your life. Killed in cold blood was an expression that I knew rather well, it was an expression that I had caused, the amount of people I had shot, stabbed, struggled or whatever else was a huge amount. It was something I wasn’t proud these days, but I use to be so glad when I saw a face of someone I didn’t like lying at the bottom of my feet. The expressions frozen on their face forever. I remember when my dad died, I was eighteen I never got to say goodbye, and the body was lost. Loosing someone wasn’t as bad as seeing everyone else who was still here expression. Ciara Skye, how would I describe her, crazy, full of compassion

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