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I will bleed on this night and write to you with the crimson blood of the old hand that tells the stor that is nothing but the under truth and to smile at what she had writen for words have nto come like this to her in many moons. Now she can speel the letters in her crimson blood for you only to see dry and aways like she is when you read it so... and sorry but i beet you to it... i could not bare to lose.. to lose you.. so to excape the pain.. i took the first blood.