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... as I held him up against the wall. I dug my fingers into his flesh and squeezed so tight that it must have hurt a bit for him, but not enough that he would die.
But all through that, somehow, he threw me over his back.
My back hit the ground like a sack of potatoes while blood dripped from my head and my side. He crawled away from me, pulling out a gun from his waistband and shooting it at me like a madman.
But he missed, and I got up from the ground, kicking his legs ou ...
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