It's wrong. [ Tate is by his bed. Sitting on it, just like that, walls still a hideous aquamarine colour. It never changed, for some reason, despite the many owners of the house.
Will's 'design' was wrong and for some reason that bothered Tate. There'd be the occasional murder fan breaking in here, wanting to look at it. Police were gone, long gone, but Tate had noticed the badge. No, he was wrong. Wrong, wrong wrong. ]
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Will's 'design' was wrong and for some reason that bothered Tate. There'd be the occasional murder fan breaking in here, wanting to look at it. Police were gone, long gone, but Tate had noticed the badge. No, he was wrong. Wrong, wrong wrong. ]
I wasn't afraid of anything.