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... life. I was certain that that scream must have been the sound he made when his eyes were ripped out of his head.
I strained my eyes, trying desperately to fix the memory of Uncle Will in my mind’s eye.
In a dimly lit corner of the prison, a young man was crouching.
I could only stand there and stare at the atmosphere of despair.
In fact, even if I had been there, I would not have been able to speak to Uncle Will.
I was certain that I would always feel help ...
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