It wasn't fear that left me weak, but the adrenaline. You mean you're afraid of loving anyone more than life itself? Yes. But Richard wasn't good with the dead. And so she defeatedherself, as the rock wall slid up to cover the gentleness he would have demonstrated later that night.
The floor came up to smack into my body, and there was nothing but a soft, gray nothingness, then the world was black, and my head didn't hurt at all. He couldn't keep me out of the crime scene. Bennington was enough to drive anyone to smoke. How many hours it may have been, how many days or even years, they never told me.
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