Prologue

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She fell . . . in love, you caught her because you knew she was glass. You held her close, but one day you decided she wasn't good enough anymore, so instead of helping her, you dropped her on the concrete. If to be even more sick and twisted you stomped her until only slivers of glass remained. You watched her bleed. You heard her cries, and you laughed.

There was this fragile and scared little girl, she fell in love and you caught her. Then one day she started to crack so you finished the job. The girl we once knew is dead, and you're not even in trouble.

We will stand there going up against you, you will see our tears treaked faces, the bags beneath our eyes. You will smile and walk away free, only to repeat your actions once again.

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