“I know I’ve done you wrong, Molloy,” he quickly continued, seeming to stumble over his words as he tried to piece reality back together in the haze of withdrawal and grief. “But you’re the only one,” he continued to tell me, voice low, pained, and urgent. “You were always the only one. My one. In the good times and the bad. I swear to Christ…” He cleared his throat and tipped his head toward the freshly dug grave beside us. “On her grave. I swear it. No matter how fucked up I ever got, I never touched another girl.” He shook his head again, blew out a pained breath, and said, “All of the
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