T H I R T Y - T W O - Time To Say Goodbye

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{Not Edited}

Song: Faded

Artist (s): Alan Walker

Death leaves a heartache no-one can heal. Love leaves a memory no-one can steal.

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I'm scared. Not of dying, it's more that I'm afraid of time. And not having enough of it. Time to figure out who I'm supposed to be...to find my place in the world before having to leave it. I'm afraid of what I'll miss. 

I'm not afraid of death, going to an afterlife or even not existing doesn't bother me. I'm more afraid of dying. Of being that helpless. I don't want to be concious for the last chapter. I don't want to see that victory look on that bastards face. 

Whenever I feel myself doubting how far I can go, I always remember how far I have already come. I remember everything I've already faced, all the battles I've already won, and all the fears I have already overcome. 

I punched the punching bag one last time before falling into a pile on the gym floor. It's all about to go down in a few hours. In a few hours, I'll either be with my loved ones or laying dead somewhere. I looked at my broken arm when I felt deep pain and throbbing. Even though I didn't use it to punch the bag, I still felt pain. 

I got to my feet with great difficulty before moving over to my bag to pull out a camcorder. I placed it onto a shelf, facing me ready to record and tell everyone what was going on. 

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I walked into the warehouse cautiously trying to figure out if there were any traps.

"I see you made it" a voiced boomed from the corner of the room.

"I don't have time for this. Can we get started?" was all I said

"What's the hurry? Can't I spend some quality time with my only daughter?" he said feigning hurt 

"Cut the bullshit" I hissed not wanting t interact with the person who killed my mother.

"Ohh...No bad language please. I don't like it." he came closer until he was face to face with me. I didn't have time to react when he lifted his arm to make the first move.

I noticed too late that it was a feint, though, when the second punch doubled me over and expelled the last bit of choked air from my lungs, I knew it was on.

It was a heck of a shot. Outside of having the wind knocked from me, which I always hated, I noticed a fair amount of pain with the gut shot, which was something I wasn't used to. A hit to the face, yes, or even the kidney...but the gut shouldn't have been much more than discomfort.

Fortunately, I was used to it all. Injuries in countless places, even being out of air was something I knew how to deal with.

I stood straight, eyes bulging with rage, and stared at my 'father'—someone who likes to torture the people who loved him—right in his shifty little eyes. 

I took a lurching step forward ready to attack. On the count of three.. I swung.

The blow felt too sluggish. I knew the second I launched it. The bastard easily ducked under it. Before I could even register the dodge, however, another body shot, this one to my ribs, sent fresh ripples of pain through my torso. I didn't fall—I made absolutely sure that I did not fall—but it was a lot closer than I'd have liked. In my old town, where I was more well-known, my reputation would have already taken a beating whether I won the fight or not.

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