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Eleven left us, Axel drives the van to its fullest speed to escape the cops. But thinking how Eleven left us in a middle of a trouble really bothers me. How could she do that? Ditching us in the time we needed her the most. Somehow, I feel happy on her decision. She has a family now. She has friends. She has circle of people who care for her. She stopped taking revenge because of them. Should I stop? Why would I stop punishing those who want me dead? That's the only reason why I'm still doing this. Maybe if they're all dead, I'll start a new life and find a place that is worthy to be called home.

A loud crushing sound breaks my   momentum of thinking. I feel pain all over my body. I can't feel my legs. My arms. Everything. Is this the end? Is this my end? I looked in every corner of the van. Blood drenched this whole place. Mick's arm has been cut off and he's not breathing. Axel's head is full of shattered glasses pierced in his flesh. Funshine and Dottie have almost the same condition; broken legs, ribs, and neck. All of them are no longer breathing. They're all dead.

I didn't see this coming. Why am I still alive? Isn't it unfair to see all of those people who treated you like a family soaking with their own crimson blood and I am here, immobile, and yet alive?

I wish I could use this stupid power to bring them back. But I can't. The cops' sirens are wailing loud as it approaches us. I can't get out; my legs get stuck between the seats. And here they are. The cops are here as well as the bunch of media reporters and ambulances.

I played dead so that they could release in this horrible position. I saw my friends being carried away by the nurses and put a cover onto their whole body.
I barely recognized that an unknown man was pulling me gently. I ease the pain, so I stayed silent for them to convince that I am dead--a poor lifeless girl.

Everything went black. The blanket covers all the lights that I see. This metal bed is cold. The people around are noisy. I'm tired. I need to sleep.

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