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Author of 9 Stories |
Ever since I learned I was the Key, I feel like I've been growing more distant from humanity.
I tried to become a better person. I wanted respect; I wanted them to realize I was useful.
No matter what I did, they kept blocking me out.
I thought they hated me, but maybe they somehow know I was wrong.
After all, how good can I be, with this corpse at my feet?
He threatened to hurt my sister. He hit me. I murdered him.
And the flecks of blood on my hands aren't guilty reminders. They are words of approval.