He felt hands tugging at him, mysterious creatures with long fingers and sharp nails that pulled at his flesh. 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. “You have dyed your hair and darkened your eyebrows. ” “Two words only,” Hill repeated. Since then he has persistently annoyed me.
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