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* he shook his head, slowly than usual. his face looked sorrowful, his eyes felt dry that it hurt when he blinks. emotions were mixed that he couldn't compose his next words accordingly, in which the only option he had was blurt it out * that denbrough boy. georgie. i . . . * he sighed sharply, palm running over his head * i could've saved the boy — if i knew how to do my FUCKING JOB. * his fists suddenly slammed the desk, feeling hostile for a quick second before he quivered . ‘ not again. ’ *