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"The mother is the whore, not the child."

"Arrggh! Why did I do that?"

Charles stopped walking. He was dragging his feet towards his bungalow.

"Why him of all the people? He was a very nice person to me. He didn't deserve that."

He dropped the shopping bags at the door.

"I'm such a cruel person. I don't deserve to see the light of the day."

He started to hit himself in the face and on the head whenever his hands were deemed fit.

"You shouldn't do that to yourself."

A loud but strained voice came from behind him. He turned. It was the old woman whom he had helped earlier.

"You shouldn't hurt yourself. That's the last thing that should cross your mind. No matter what the situation is, you shouldn't."

The woman advised. Charles pushed his body forward in a low bow. He said no words. He walked into the living room and slowly shut the door.

He walked straight to the chair. He sat on the side that the foam was a little much.

He leaned back into the chair and sighed. Pushing his body back up, his gaze fell on the shopping bags
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