“Was it like this for you?” I ask softly, knowing our looks aren’t where our similarities end. “What do you mean?” I chew on the inside of my cheek, hesitating. “Did it feel like you were being led to your death?” Her gaze falls to her fingers splayed across my collarbone, covered in various rings. She tilts her head, deep in thought, eyes unfocused as she seems to check out momentarily. “You’ll find ways to make peace with it,” she says finally, kissing my forehead. When she releases me, she offers a smile, but it feels forced and wobbly, so fragile, it could break in an instant, its
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