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It aches to be born. It aches to grow. It aches to choose. There is no ache in death.
Shall I kill you?
code by #202
Your lips crack. Come, take my kiss.
" You refused to believe me when I told you. When I told you what fate lied for our pack. You chased me, alone in these woods, like you did to so many others before me. You hoped to never see me again. To never hear about what is coming again. To sleep soundly, safely amongst your kind.
Hope only brings you so far.
You shut your eyes and denied the signs. The first coughs in the night. The wailing of pups struggling to breathe. The sores and the fog. The smell of death coming from your own blood.
Now, you meet me at The Abattoir.
You'd rather be blind. Well, soon enough, you will never open your eyes again.
When you see Her, remember this. You are no kin of mine. "