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... but they still felt foreign—like they were not mine.

Like they belonged to someone else.

Someone who had done things I could never take back.

Even now, I could still hear the screams.

See the blood.

The faces of people I didn't even know, twisted in fear as I cut them down.

Some had deserved it.

Others… hadn't.

I swallowed, feeling a lump in my throat as a dead boy's voice reached my ears.

"N-No…please don't kill me…I beg y ...

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