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... to his drawers where the bottle of suppressant was. His trembling hands poured the pills on his palms and he swallowed two. Then, he rolled on the floor in pain.

He was sweating profusely, but he knew the damp feeling on his behind wasn't sweat. He crawled himself to the other side of the bed, away from the door. If he could, he'd hide underneath, or perhaps in the bathroom, but his knees were too weak to walk again, and his fear that his scent would seep through the tiny gaps of the do ...

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