Gazing at her with eyes blinded with tears, he imprinted one brotherly kiss upon her lips. Sated, he rolled off her body and retired to his quarters. Wild has done his business. She made no attempt to answer her sister’s question. The true creative mind is always returning to battle; defeats are only temporary setbacks. 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.
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