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Chapter 3: Primal urges
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Chapter 5: The Shield And Hope
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... ing on my cheek resonates through the room, bouncing off the sterile white walls of this beautiful prison we call home.
"You bastard!" Spittle lands on my face as father yells out, his voice is weakened with age but is somehow still full and powerful, charged by the venomous hate he has for me, his disappoinment son.
Thwack!
Another slap lands on my cheek, causing me this time around to lose my footing and stumble backwards. The metallic taste of blood blooms on my tongue ...
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