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" I didn't mean to", " It won't happen again", You made me do it" THese simple word phrases was something she heard often, They were something you had spoken often. No matter what she did, you'd end up saying the same words, quite like a broken record. Just a simple look or a movement of her tongue would result in the movement of your hands to her face, your feet to her body, maybe one day a gun to her head. There is no telling with you. She'd go to work with her eyes black, and sunken in, all because she put too much ice in your drink. But she never ratted you out, no matter what you did. She feared her life with you; but she couldn't leave because then she really would be dead. Body bruised and aching she carried on loving you. The hateful lust you possessed for this girl was what you called " Love " . Who knows maybe you really did " love " her. But tonight , your " love " must have been too much for you to handle. She came home late from work because she had to pick up more bottles of that orangish liquid you had already had to much of. You had finally done what she feared most. Your rage beat her so bad that she lost, she lost the never ending battle with you. Now instead of going to work with sunken eyes , she has to go to a funeral; her funeral. Now the sunken eyes they look at is a corpse that'll always bare the hatrid of you.
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