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Summary
Find what you love and let it kill you.
“I seem to be running a bit late,” Harry says as he stares at his watch under his clear plastic coat. He smiles. “Do you have a boyfriend, love?” There is no response. “Oh, right,” Harry realizes. “Silly me.”
He tears the duct tape off her mouth, a little less than gently. “Now, no screaming,” Harry drags the tip of the knife down her cheek, “or we both know where this knife will end up.”
