...created by the knife goes out powerful jets of bright red blood, but nothing: Santo's vital functions always remain the same. He didn't die even an hour later; not even a day later; nor a month later. He did not die anymore. He became immortal though, willy-nilly, the guilt became stronger and stronger and it brutally murdered every day because you may be dead even being alive. That was so not worth dying physically touched undergo perpetual disdain for long life.
From the mouth of the heart created by the knife out powerful jets of bright red blood, but nothing: Santo's vital functions always remain the same. He didn't die even an hour later; not even a day later; nor a month later. He did not die anymore. He became immortal even if, willy-nilly, the guilt became stronger and stronger and it brutally murdered every day because you may be dead even being alive. Not dying physically was a pain so perpetual that he had to suffer to had despised his life for a long time.