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Chapter 72: CLASH OF CONVICTIONS
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... hat?" Fia’s voice sliced the tense air, sharp and cool like tempered steel, as we finally escaped the suffocating quiet of the principal’s office. We settled onto a rough, wooden bench near the infirmary clinic, its location a stark reminder of my folly.
I winced, biting back a gasp, as I leaned my awkward burden—my crutches—against the side of the bench. Every minute, careful movement to get myself seated sent waves of unimaginable, fiery pain through my bruised body. It felt like my le ...
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