#236069 - Beth was her name; eighteen years old like Colleen, long black hair, and c-cup tits. She kept herself in the corner, wanting to stay unnoticed as the other girls began the predictable dance of bitching at each other, often with fake smiles to try and portray some kind of air of confidence. He could feel it all, every tearing slip of the metal blades severing veins and muscle cords, the splitting of his skin as they surfaced and submerged, and every drop of blood spraying from the shredded arteries.
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