"Ay, what's the matter, boy!" reiterated Jackson sternly. A very familiar face emerged from a crowd at the impromptu bar on the kitchen island. 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. She elected to go to prison. These were the Master's body-guard.
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