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Running Prt 4

I deserve that. I don’t know what to say to you. I’ve been a coward for days because I can’t face you. I guess we both know what’s going to happen in a week’s time. I don’t know how to say the words to you, or how to say sorry for what I’m going to do. In that one little statement he confirms my worst fears and solidifies my decision. Ripping what’s left of my shredded mutilated heart out, and stomping on it all over the floor until there’s nothing left but mess. He’s chosen to go through with marking her and this is his goodbye. His confirmation.

Then don’t. Maybe just leave me alone until it’s done, and then we’ll see what happens from there. I need to go. I have to go do chores. I lie, trying to sound tough. Mentally scathing in tone, even if my body is starting to shake with the buildup of sobbing coming my way. Trembling as I try to hold it in, breathing fast and shallow. Throwing cold and snappy
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