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YOU'D GIVEN A LOT OF THOUGHT TO HOW YOU WOULD DIE—THE fear of death the only true constant in your life—but even you hadn’t imagined it like this.

His dark eyes watched you gleefully in the mirror, seemingly pleased in the knowledge you were alone and vastly outmatched.

Whatever fate you had escaped before, the Reaper had come to collect its due and its scythe was again in the hands of someone you had loved. You were sure now that Death would have followed you no matter where you had gone, but you had allowed Forks to give you hope.

How naive that hope had been.

The sun reflected off his palm as he stepped into the stream light and, for a moment, you allowed yourself to mourn the loss of something that was never truly yours.