Excerpt from the death of a friendship - Jeremiah S.
However much you may try, once your hand is shown, a bluff becomes a near impossibility. I know you wish ill upon me. You want me rotting in a cell made of my own insecurities. There is so much vile hatred that comes from you, that I know a blatant attack on you will only make the phantom villain you've made of me a reality. I only hold back from retribution, not because I have concern left for your well-being, but because it is against my character to spill hatred from your wounds.
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