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The light was dim and though she tried desperately to read the untidy hastened words on the grubby piece of paper, it was to no avail. Her eyes were straining in the dim light. -
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IN WHAT I DREW. UNFORTUNATELY, SINCE I WAS THINKING IN ALL CAPS, CONCENTRATING ON SOMETHING SO INTRICATE WAS HARD. I DECIDED TO READ INSTEAD, BUT ALL THE CHARACTERS
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if she should maybe begin to feel some guilt. After all, murder was murder. She began to fear, because she wasn't afraid. What could this mean? Was this perhaps because