Morphine.

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Last chapter was intense...That was only the beginning. Now the chapters will be shorter and more direct until the final chapter. Kay?

anyfucks, Ryan is NOT related to Shadow. Keep in mind that Shadow can move in and out of bodies.

[Play song on side.>>>]

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[Definition #1]

Morphine- [mawr-feen] n. A white, bitter, crystalline alkaloid, C17H19NO3•H2O, the most important narcotic and addictive principle of opium, obtained by extraction and crystallization and used chiefly in medicine as a pain reliever and sedative.

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{Brooklyn Hospital Center, 12:13 am}

(Jas'marieé's P.O.V.)

The walls seemed to slowly close in.

The result of this whole conundrum--my first child is dead. My barely developed child is dead; killed by his own cousin.

Prince is okay, so I heard. He came very close to dying, doctors say. The switchblade was nearly an inch away from his left ventricle. If Sevarion would have turned the blade, he could've killed him on sight. His surgery came faster than mine, since his injury was life-threatening. The doctors say he'll recover in at least a month.

As for me, God was definitely on my side. Though I was stabbed and had a miscarriage, I was told that I'd be fine. I only have to stay two weeks until I was fully recovered. The only thing that could scar me most is that I lost my child, and put myself and Prince in a serious situation.

In all honesty, I feel numb--emotionally distraught, in fact. It seems as if life intentionally shits on me. Days like these made me want to grab a revolver and shoot my fucking self.

I gazed up at the white walls, hoping for answers. How will I face the world, knowing that my dead child's father tried to kill my boyfriend? What type of vile, schizo shit is that?

On top of all of this hell, everyone knows I'm alive. On every channel, my face is on the breaking news. I can't ever face the world the same anymore.

One of the police officers on scene came into my room.

Detective Byrd: Miss Gutierrez, are you ready to talk?

I didn't answer, looking at the wall. In addition to not wanting to talk, I was still trying to register what happened into my mind. I still felt angry, depressed, and confused.

Byrd came in anyway, taking a seat next to me.

Byrd: Okay. I'm going to ask you a few questions. Are you willing to answer these questions honestly?

Jas'marieé: (mumbles) Sure.

Byrd: Give me basic information about you.

Jas'marieé: Jas'marieé Shawnee Lyric Nicole Gutierrez. Sixteen years old as of August sixth. I'm a senior at Academy For Young Writers.

Byrd: What is your current relationship with Jacob Perez?

Jas'marieé: We've been together on and off for three years.

Byrd: How would you describe your relationship with him?

Jas'marieé: Imperfectly perfect.

Byrd: I know this will be painful, but can you retell what happened to me?

I sighed, retelling him the incident at hand. As I spoke vaguely, he recorded what I said. I guess he was planning on getting someone to transcribe it. Once I finished, he nodded, stopping the recording.

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