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Knowing the devil

I don't know where to begin. His lust filled eyes stared at me while I was a mess with the specks of liquor that falls on my pajamas. The disgusting smell of his breath intoxicated with alcohol makes my head turn away on its own, until he forces me back to look into his devious eyes.

"Why do you do this? You have a choice."

"I don't have a choice." He seethes unnecessarily in anger at me. Pushing his hand away, making some of the overflowing liquid from his hand fall back on my dress, I move several feet away from him in the confined space of the balcony. As if the things aren't smaller enough, he corners me straight into the wall and I couldn't find myself out from this situation.

"I don't have a choice. Because I am genetically modified to be a killing machine." He says, baffling me out of my mind.

"What?" I don't believe him and ask him with vigor, making an irritated face because if his drunkenness is making him blabber unbelievable things, then I'd slap him and satisfy myself whi
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