the child is grown, the dream is gone.
#7
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     His family was broken. His left eye was broken. His mind had been broken for years, but that was all right. If it wasn’t, he wouldn’t be able to do what needed to be done. Both of his hands remained lose, and to his own surprise, still. He should have been shaking. He should have felt something. “I came here to kill you,” he said in that same low voice, still unwilling to look away from the fire.
     “You gave me my wish,” he added, hair falling into his face and obscuring his sight. “You should get yours.”




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