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... of weight—though there were enough of them, stuffed full of trial logs and sealed reports, some with brittle edges and ink faded to a memory. No, it was the weight behind them. The screams buried in redacted lines. The lives behind those numbers. Subjects.

I tucked the final stack into my backpack and slung it over my shoulder, careful not to crush the older files. I did one last sweep of the attic. Nothing else worth keeping. Just ghosts. Ones I wasn't ready to face. Not yet.

Th ...

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