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Roylsden #362

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I close my eyes, believing Zeke's got the gun again.
If this is Death, let it come quick, I'm too tired to fight anymore.
It hurts as I turn my back to the direction of the click. I don't want to see the gun. I don't care anymore. I'm groaning when I move. My head roars, there's a noise like the inside of a waterfall in my ears.
I only ask for one more moment: just to hold Clint's hand one more time.
He's rubbing his throat, speaking to me.
Blood around his mouth. I can't hear what he says.

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