But there was one small problem, as there always is one small problem when everything else is just right. She could work it through a thousand times, a million times, and it wouldn't change anything, couldn't change anything, any more than it could change her name or the colour of her hair. Her name would still be Shayla. Her hair would still be blond-with-help-from-a-bottle. And more than that, more than any of that, she would still—
—be—
—dead.
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