Prologue

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My bones are young but they are weary. Still as my face distorts itself in irreparable pain and my muscles tremble I push myself along the crooked sidewalk, my progress marked only by cracks in the darkened concrete.

I have taken too many wrong turns and I suppose this is where I have landed. I am on my last legs, the finale to the gory war, and have nothing to show for it but a scarred ego and a harrowing feeling in my gut that it all ends here. There is red in the edges of my vision and red splattered on my hands. I don't know how it got there.

I just want to say I'm sorry.

God, I am so, so sorry.

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