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February Sixteenth.

My lungs are on fire as I sprint down the street, my chest heaving. It's absolutely pouring out; the raindrops feel more like tiny, sharp points of ice as they pelt my skin.

☠☠☠

I run faster, my breaths getting heavier. I see his car pull right next to me, just driving along with my sprinting. Shit.

☠☠☠

He's gonna have to follow me on foot if he wants to catch me and he isn't exactly the fastest runner.

☠☠☠

The second thud is enough to send him sprinting in the wrong direction, thinking it's me. Hell yes. Home free.

☠☠☠

I catch sight of her sitting in the passenger seat of his car, smiling sweetly. 

Fuck.

☠-✟-☠-✟-☠-✟-☠-✟-☠-✟-☠-✟-☠-✟-☠-✟-☠-✟-☠-✟-☠-✟-☠-✟-☠-✟-☠-✟-☠

DANCING AT MY FUNERAL.

APRIL SIXTEENTH, TWENTY TWENTY-TWO.

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