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... ulled the blade from his skin. Blood pooled around him, thick and dark. He didn’t scream anymore — he couldn’t. His body finally gave out, slumping lifelessly to the floor.

I stood over him, my chest rising and falling slow. I wasn’t shaking — I was burning. But I held it in. Not because I had to. Because I had time.

I left him there, ruined and unconscious, and made my way to the bathroom. Water hit my skin like fire, washing away the blood, but not the heat crawling under it. I ...

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