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quick way to make money in gta 5 story mode

datatime: 2022-12-06 19:34:49 Author:UWJNWbef

I sighed. Less and less scares me, Richard. So when I find something that does bother me, I have to test it. I have to see if I can do it.

I stared back into the hole and let myself acknowledge just how afraid I was. So afraid that I could taste something flat and metallic on my tongue. So afraid that my pulse was hammering in my throat, like a trapped thing. My voice came out calm, normal. I was glad. It doesn't matter that I'm afraid. I touched the flashlight, tried to pull it from his hand, but he held on. And, short of playing tug of war -- which I would probably lose -- I wasn't getting it away from him.

Give me the flashlight, Richard.

To me, Richard, I have something left to prove to me.

He shook his head. I let this happen. I'll get him out.

He clutched the flashlight tighter. Why? And somehow I thought the question was about more than the oubliette and why I had to climb inside it.

I sighed. Less and less scares me, Richard. So when I find something that does bother me, I have to test it. I have to see if I can do it.

He shook his head. This isn't courage, Anita, this is stubbornness.

Why? He studied my face like he'd memorize it.

He shook his head. This isn't courage, Anita, this is stubbornness.

He knelt beside me and spoke softly, I can smell your fear. I know you don't like close places.

Why? Why do you need to know that? You've proven to me and everyone here that you're tough. You don't have anything left to prove to us.

Why? and his voice held the first hint of anger, like a slap of warmth.

Because it scares me, and I have to know if I can.

To me, Richard, I have something left to prove to me.

I held my hand out for the flashlight.

I shook my head. I have to do it, Richard.

He shook his head. I let this happen. I'll get him out.

I shook my head. No. He's mine.

I shook my head. I have to do it, Richard.

What difference would it make if you couldn't climb down in that stinking hole? You'll never have to do it again, Anita. Just don't do it.

I stared back into the hole and let myself acknowledge just how afraid I was. So afraid that I could taste something flat and metallic on my tongue. So afraid that my pulse was hammering in my throat, like a trapped thing. My voice came out calm, normal. I was glad. It doesn't matter that I'm afraid. I touched the flashlight, tried to pull it from his hand, but he held on. And, short of playing tug of war -- which I would probably lose -- I wasn't getting it away from him.

Give me the flashlight, Richard.

He held on with both hands. Why do you have to do this? Just tell me that. You're so scared your mouth is dry. I can taste it on your breath.

Why? and the anger was more than a faint hint now.

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