They were filthy after the burial. And let us go on with our evening. By the time I had recovered myself she had gone. 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. Get the pole out of your ass. She remembered abruptly that she was really living upon his money. “Because I hate you!” She spat.
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