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"YOU DON'T WANT TO KILL ME," I SAID.

"Of course I don't, Gaby. But I have to."

If I wasn't already bleeding, with the room tilting and swaying, I would have slapped myself. I never saw this coming. I had let my personal feelings cloud my judgment. and now I was looking down the barrel of a gun.

I never thought it would end like this, me on the hardwood floor in my house, propped up on my elbows, begging for my life. On my right was the crumpled body of a guy I hadn't fully realized the depths of my feelings for until I saw the bullet rip into him.

I tried to use reason again. To buy myself just one more minute of life. "This isn't you," I said, pleading. "You're not a murderer."

"A couple weeks ago, I would've said the same thing. But you should know more than anyone how people surprise you. People can do things you never imagined they would. You think you know someone and then ..."

My would-be killer shrugged and cocked the gun.

Then the world went black.

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