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... that I was no longer being held down. My arms were free, heated and tingling, and too heavy for me to move. The chill of the floor was missing. In its place was the warmth of freshly washed bed covers. The temperature in the room was pleasant, something I had not expected to feel.
My mind started to question the legitimacy of the last lucid memory I possessed. I remembered the hard body pushing mine down; I remembered the long fingers wrapped around my throat. Had that incident really ...
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