PREVIEW
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The first hour of the procession was a mere scrap on the skin compared to what came next. Oscar had thought the worst was behind him, but as usual, his expectations were rarely met and cast into deep disappointment. The stakes and needles impaling him began to burn, searing unending agony in his very flesh as if he was melting. His struggles never surfaced, unable to lift a finger nor twitch a brow, his body no longer his to control. Being a fabricator, He understood now that he was ...
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