Epilogue ;;

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He walks up to the door and takes a deep breath. It doesn't hurt to breathe anymore. He opens the door and enters, then closes it again.

Nostalgia.

Pain.

Sadness.

Relief.

He let his dull eyes take in every furniture, every picture frame, every little memory that he destroyed. Everything that might have hurt him before, but now it's nothing.

He feels nothing.

A flicker of light catches his eye. He walks up to it, seeing a candle. This must be the candle Pete had.

Pete saved his life. He's thankful of it.

He also has the person he always wanted. Someone he's been dying to have.

He leans over to it and chips off the initials stampled on the real one. He reads the letters that are deeply engraved.

F. A. I.

His lips form a smirk, scoffing.

"Heh, guess we can't all be winners. Right, Patrick?"

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