Hannah Hill

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The pain still lingers. I remember how much it hurt just to look at him. He had always been the one to make me feel safe, but last night was different. It was as though he’d taken a knife and repeatedly plunged it into my chest. Each time I looked at him, the wound was reopened, the pain as fresh and raw as the first time. It was like death by a thousand cuts.
Call It What You Want
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