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... /p>

He stands just inside the door, tall, crisp lab coat still smelling of chemicals even years later, silver name badge unreadable from the glare of the overhead lights.

It’s him.

"Hello, Number Twelve," he croons, almost sweetness in his voice. His mouth barely moves—he’s been doing this too long.

"You grew up... beautiful. My most successful project."

My stomach twists. My bones go cold. I taste bile and fear and hotel room tequila all at once.

Proje ...

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