Trophy Scars. "Rachel, I Think He’s Dead" They Screamed. Trofee Scars. "Rachel, ek dink Hea € ™ s Dood" het hulle geskree.
...Everyday, I think to myself, "I must be dead," I must be dead and in hell. I think I'm dead! I'm dead to her. I'm dead to myself. A cutting intuition
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