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... s voice still crawling around inside my head like centipede legs, brushing against the walls of my skull.

Not with that vision burned into the back of my eyelids—

The rain that wasn’t water.

The older me.

The smile behind the chains.

I lay in bed, fully clothed, staring up at the wooden ceiling as shadows twisted across the beams like they had a life of their own.

The silence wasn’t peaceful.

It felt suffocating,

Even the wind outsi ...

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