A Touch of Death

A Touch of Death

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WpMetadataNoticeDernière publication lun., févr. 6, 2017
Alcohol. Sometimes I wasn't sure what would give first: my mind or my liver. For as long as I can remember, I had the touch of death. No, I couldn't kill people with my touch but I could sense when they were going to die. Alcohol was my only friend, because it was the only thing that spoke to me without unconsciously telling me when it was going to die.
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"Death was something she hadn't thought of much before. Which she heard was normal for her age. In your twenties, even as a teenager, you never envision yourself dying. You think you're invincible. But with the heaviness of her body, the acute pain throbbing throughout every nerve, the burning of her lungs, she imagined this is what death would feel like. Even though she couldn't die, because technically, she was invincible. But a part of her craved that sudden release, anything to escape this torture."

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