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... s.
So long, it felt like something from a previous life.
His mother, in his memory, was a gray shadow lying on a filthy broken bed, different men coming in and swearing as they left.
He stood by the door, and the woman on the bed would grab anything she could and throw it at him.
Sometimes, when he was too hungry, he had to find something to eat.
The drive was the instinctual survival urge deep within his bones.
He accidentally found himself in fro ...
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