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Isabel let go of her. Lily wanted soap so badly, to scrub where Isabel had made contact until the skin was gone and only red meat remained. But she didn’t have water to waste, so she just curled up and sat there.

Time passed. It was mostly silent. Isabel eventually had to ruin that, too. Still trying to make conversation. About shoes. Who talks about shoes?

“No. I don’t want to talk about shoes.”

And then Isabel asked the million-dollar answer-wrong-and-you-die question.

God, was that knife-twirling uncomfortable. Lily was getting a distinct vibe that ‘no reason’ or ‘it’s unimportant’ just wouldn’t cut it here. But she was sure Isabel really would kill her if she said what she was thinking, which was ‘you killed my cousin and the only way you can make amends for that is if you cut your own throat right here, you moronic psychopathic bitch.’

Lily looked at Isabel, and at the knife. When she spoke, her voice came out terse.

“You were a bit of competition that I didn’t want to have to deal with later.”
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End of the Line · The Gym