Does this sound cool, for a story?
I lay there, cold and still. Drops of sweat frozen to my skin. I kept my eyes closed, but my ears were ever so alert. I was listening to the voices around me. 2 Men, 1 woman. They were discussing the body of a young girl they'd found. "It's a shame. She was a beauty." a rough deep voice said. You could here the age in his voice. "Yea, she was just so young." Another, softer, male voice rolled in. "Who could, who would..." The female voice trailed off. As for me, I felt no sorrow for her, no pitty. She WAS beautiful. Long blond hair that formed soft ringlets around her face. Bright green eyes, and skin that seemed to glow. She looked more alive than dead. But she was stupid. She chose to live her life the way she had. Always fighting for something. Never running. Constantly doing the "right thing". If she would just accept the world wouldn't change, she wouldn't be there. I felt more hatred and shame for her than anything. No, I didn't feel anything. Just pure nothingness for her lifeless body. And I knew, as I listened, that she felt the same way. For I knew her well. Her name was Rush. And she, was me.
What ya think?
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