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May 15, 2005

Stacy : Enough

The red haze grew before her eyes as she watched the flames lick hungrily at the walls of her home.

"I should get up," she thought, "get the hell out of here."

But she just sat there, consumed with black hatred for those who pursued her. Who had pursued her entire life. Who would continue pursue until she was dead. Her hatred was a live thing, urging her up, out into the cool, night air.

But still she sat there, even as the flames began to sear her skin, hair and clothes. "Fuck destiny," she thought, and closed her eyes.

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