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i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
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Vanessa didn't go down in one blow. No, she was still moving after the first strike, so Maxim went again. She stopped moving after that. But Maxim didn't know, so instead of stopping, he kept hitting. Eventually, the cracking sound became a soft mush, as Vanessa's head and face turned to nothing.

This was how it was going to have to be. He didn't want to do this but it was the reality. Maybe if he really was some sort of psychopath he could find some sort of enjoyment out of it, but as it was, Maxim just felt ill. That tightening experience in his stomach continued, it did not loosen like it should have. He wanted to feel better, he wanted this girl's death to have some sort of good outcome, maybe like his own escape from the island and the escape of his constant well of negative feelings. But the goodness never came, he only felt worse.

Maxim stood up. The hammer dripped. Without betraying an emotion, he walked back to his bag and dropped the hammer. He hoped he would not have to deal with that thing for a while, especially considering he had no intention of wasting his own precious water washing the blood and gunk off. Instead, he picked up his other weapon, the bow with which he crippled the girl, and slung it around his shoulder. Maxim took an arrow from the bag, and held it in his fingers. If he was going to leave the island, he needed to get good with this.

Turning around, he returned to the now dead girl whose name was once Vanessa. He rifled through her belongings, both on her person and not. Nothing exceptional was on her, except another set of food for his own collection, a splintered leg with several protruding nails, and personal possessions which meant nothing to Maxim.

He turned around once again to retrieve his bag, only to stop in his tracks.

He was there, standing right by his bag.

If this were a situation with more normalcy involved, Maxim might have asked any number of things. Like how did he get there? What was he doing? Instead, this was a situation with much risk involved, especially to himself, so instead:

"What do you want?"
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I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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This Nearly Was Mine · The Library