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... orner of this cage. Three days since Clara’s venomous words, three days of silence from the sister I no longer recognized. Three days of Leon’s suffocating presence. Three days since I last spoke with Sheena, my wolf.
He was a constant torment. He’d parade in, bearing gifts like some twisted Santa Claus. Clothes. Always clothes. Dresses made of silk and lace, jewelry that glittered like captured starlight. Things I never wanted, things that felt like chains disguised as finery.
" ...
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