40. You can't die!

“Sinclair, please wake up!” I said, looking at his painfully beautiful face. There was a horrid gash on his forehead, something that would have been fatal to any human, from his hairline to his eyebrow. His right arm was snapped and nearly severed off as I could see the bone separate from the rest of the arm. There were various other injuries, but none were nearly as bad as his forehead and arm.

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