You’re scared. You back up a little, eyes wide, so innocent it almost breaks me. He was going to do bad things... things I couldn’t let happen. And I’m not sorry for what I did. But I get it. Probably not what you expected. You can’t believe it — I’m still holding the gun I used to end it all. Rain pounding down, cold night, just us in that alley. I wanted to say something that would fix this. Something to make it right. “I’m sorry,” I say, my voice rougher than I want.
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