I glanced over to see 34 appear. I held out my hand to her, letting go of 63’s hand. “I have some sad news,” I told her as she squeezed between 63 and myself.
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I was falling into darkness.
I was dying.
Alice shot me and I was dying.
I never thought that this is how it would end. Getting shot by a jealous woman so she could have my fiancee. Mary would be joining me, soon, I realized sadly. Mary wished for youth and health for as long as I lived. When I died, so would she. Regret blossomed in my heart. I would never get to see my child that grew in Korina’s belly. I would never get to make a child with Mary. And I wanted so very much to marry my sweet filly. To watch her walk radiant down the aisle towards me in her wedding dress. I pictured her, dressed in white, a veil obscuring her pretty face, flowers in her hand. Her auburn hair would have been a splash of color against the purity of her dress. She would have been so beautiful.
“You can still see her, Mark,” a woman’s voice floated out of the darkness. “You are not dead, yet.”
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