The Hockey Star's Remorse
With trembling hands, I started to move, ready to follow Timothy's lead as he guided further away.
But as I pulled away from Timothy's grasp, a sudden jolt of terror seized me. I looked down at my palms, now slick with blood, the stark crimson staining my skin. A shiver ran down my spine, an inexplicable dread settling over me like a suffocating shroud.
"Timothy, your shoulder," I gasped, my voice a tremulous whisper.
I turned my gaze back toward Timothy, fear knotting in my stomach at the sight of the blood seeping through his shirt, the wound stark against the fabric. I gasped.
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