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... my arms, but his gaze already held that familiar disappointment.

"I told you," he said quietly. "It wasn’t going to work."

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My throat was dry, and not just from shouting.

"It’s not that they don’t care," he added, glancing over the room as the others began to shuffle away, heads down, shoulders sagging. "It’s that they’ve stopped believing their voices matter. Changing someone’s mind after they’ve spent their whole life being trampled on.... tha ...

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