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The words from the images:
He stood straighter. They came closer, slowly and quieter than usual. He turned to face the door, his daughter’s photo held tightly, as if sustaining him.
Were they returning to finish him? So be it.
To torment him further? So be it.
They could take nothing more from him, for all he had left was love, and that was not theirs to take. If he lived, he would love her all his life. If he died, he would die with her face in his mind.
Keys clattered awkwardly at his door.
He took in a deep breath of the putrid air. Feces and urine made a poor last breath, but he had no option. His door swung, his appointment with fate was to be had.
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