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Better to be hated and alive, better to be in pain than a murderer, better to be alone and safe.
My hand clenches around my fork again, but this time I can’t hold myself back from snapping back at her, “What’s your Gift? When I stab you with this fork, will you heal straight away, or can you only do something shitty, like talk to pigeons or shit gold?”
“Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. This pain is nothing compared to that.”