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The Death Of William Shakespeare 's ' The Great Gatsby '

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Rex had no idea how to break it to them. He didn’t have to tell them what he was going to choose, but he was supposed to. Everyone was supposed to at least give a clue as to what they were going to do. He decided not to, because he didn’t want them to try to stop him He knew being a protecter was dangerous work, with a high fatality rate, higher than any other career. He’d known that even before last April when Edmund, an older teenager he’d actually known and talked to a few times, came back from his work as a protector in a coffin. That had certainly dampened his enthusiasm to become a protector.
Protectors were always romanticised. They were heroes, they protected the nation from everything outside of it. Rex had always looked up to them in admiration, ever since he was young. Then when he knew about the high death rate, he looked at them with even more reverence. They risked their lives for the good of everyone. He found himself still wanting to be part of that, even after some of the fear had set in. He wanted to defend the people. He wanted to keep people safe, especially his family, especially the people who lived in his household.
They didn’t know yet.
Sure, his mother, Svetla, and his grandmother, Harriet, always knew about how much he had admired the protectors, from how he went on about them when he was younger. His mother had warned him. His grandmother, a former protector herself, had encouraged him. She and his mother had both always supported him, but his

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