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The sight of a crushed Pokeball imprinted itself into the Malamar's eyes as his trainer ran away from him as if he was a rampaging Ursaring. Marz could only look down at the very sight of betrayal, a cold tendril only picked up the larger shards of the capture device. Sharp ends of metal sliced...
Everything is fake. Marz only watches his mom as she drinks another glass of wine, ignoring the smudge of lipstick on his dad's shirt that's not from her. He only observes the way his dad will happily flirt with any of the countless women dancing through out the halls. It's like watching a wind...
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