Look at Him
By hobazz
Mon, 13 Sep 2004
- 625 reads
Dread. In the pit of my stomach. Being stired like a thickening pot
of brew. Bile threatening to surge out of my mouth leaving me with the
temptation to turn around and run as far away as I could, but I didn't.
Something was compelling me to stay. An urge to, for one last time, see
some emotion stir inside him. Even hatered towards me.
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