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Even in his final moments, I doubt he learned his lesson. But I didn’t kill him to teach him a lesson; I killed him to carve him out of this world like a tumor. And I’d do it again.
Unlikely. If men like that could learn the error of their ways, I wouldn’t have to teach so many of them a lesson.
His face darkens with a mixture of embarrassment and anger—perhaps the most dangerous combination of emotions in a man.
It’s exhausting, being in my head. I wish I could stop thinking. I wish I could be like everyone else.
