” “Why did you keep her all of these years? What good can it do?” “She created me, Lucia. ’ It took several frustrating moments, working at the protrusions of the carving down the side of the bookshelves, tugging at leaves, pushing at flowers. “You’ll be there, right?” She asked, hearing his breathing audibly jump. 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. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley.
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