[ Wounded animals fight hardest - or at least as the saying goes, and to force herself this way is painful, her breath is strained - that shot, oh how that shot aches in her shoulder. Clean through at the time, but messy. Bullets were far cleaner affairs now than those early rifle shots of the 1850s. It reminds her, daily, for whats waiting for her. ]
I want to have nothing more to tell them when they elect to drug me again. [ It's a hissing whisper, pressed in close into that near space. ]
no subject
I want to have nothing more to tell them when they elect to drug me again. [ It's a hissing whisper, pressed in close into that near space. ]