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Chapter 1: Poor Alex
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Chapter 3: I Start by fucking Lila
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... Thick, wet straw. Mildew. Old piss soaked into dirt floor. A faint metallic tang of blood long dried. Rain dripping through a thousand tiny holes in the thatched roof, pattering onto his cheek like cold spit. The air tasted sour and heavy, the way a room smells when no one has opened a window in months.
He tried to sit up.
His legs refused.
Not the dramatic refusal of paralysis in movies—no dramatic numbness, no clean break. Just grinding, bone-deep agony that radiated f ...
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