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I
have a gun in my hand. It
is aimed at my head. My
finger is on the trigger.
I
pull the trigger.
The bullet is freed.
A demon. It
penetrates my skull. It
explodes. My
brain is pierced. My
body goes through shocks.
My
brain is splattered
all over the wall.
Blood
drenches everything.
Everything. Are
you happy now?
Are
you relieved?
You bastards.
You murderers.
It
is you who kill me. Yes,
you. It
is always you,
always
you that kill me.
You
shove me into a corner. You
thrust a gun in my hand.
Then
you watch me,
as
I helplessly pull
the trigger,
as I have been trained to do
all my life.
All my life. You
watch.
You
watch.
And then you feign
innocence.
End of Book Five
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