5.2.03

Fate is an evil, misshapen beast, with the trunk of a man and the torso of, oh, let's say a lemur. It's eyes glow crimson with a demonic inner fire, the insatiable need to rend and destroy everything it touches. Fangs drip with the blood from the heart of it's latest victim, and it waits, watching you go through your days with sinister patience. And then, just when things start to swim your way, before you can blink the demon lunges for your chest and digs it's inch-long ivory claws into your guts. A fresh victim.

The girl graduates in May, then moves to New York. This sort of thing happens with disturbing, depressing regularity.

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