Great news! I haven't killed myself yet!
Even better news! I know where the knives are!
Fuck this shit. That's what I say. And especially you, you fucking Saint Augustine. I hope a stained glass window breaks and Mary's foot ends up in your eye socket.
And no, Blake, I'm not going to kill myself. Just- Oh, yeah. But you're trying to be bad right
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I'm suprised she's even concerned over you worrying, the way you've been acting lately.
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That way I wouldn't have felt so bad giving you a black eye.
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I'm sure it can be arranged if you really want, Eliza.
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