I'm praying to a God I don't believe in that everything will turn out okay.

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If I don't die this time, I'm going to take myself out.

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Maybe I hit to hard, or I cut too deep, or left her out in the cold too long, but I can't afford to lose her. She's the only person I can be myself around. She's the only one I can be honest to. She's the only one I treat the way she deserves to be treated.

Without her, how else will I be able to relieve my stress? How else will my greatest hobby continue?

It won't be able to.

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Maybe tonight will be the night. Maybe today will be the day that he forgets that I'm human, forgets that I'm fragile, forgets that he can kill me as easily as breathing.

God (the only person I have faith in anymore), I hope so.

I don't want to be here anymore.

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I can still hear her heartbeat. If I couldn't hear it anymore, I may have taken her to the hospital that I work out during the day. I'm so glad that I didn't have to that- it would have made things so much more complicated.

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I can feel myself fading, slipping away, aching to let go. I'm ready to leave, ready to die.

If only he could let me go.

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I'm holding onto her, sticking her with the IV that I brought home after my last ward left me. I can't let her leave me. She's the last girl in ten that I've actually wanted to keep.

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The agony is leaving me cold and numb- leaving me empty inside. I've become so used to the pain that I don't know what to do without it.

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I've been waiting for her to wake up. I need her to wake up. I don't know what I'll do without her.

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After God knows how long, I open my eyes.

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Thank God.

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I'd rather be in Hell than the place I've woken up into all over again.

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Back to where I was at, readying her for an eternity of life next to my mother stuffed wards on the opposite side of my decay-filled basement.