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No one cared that these savages brought down whips and blades to his skin, no one asked how he felt when they strung him up in the darkness, pulling out his fingernails while he screamed his voice hoarse. Now they were allies. He could bet that they could smell the darkness on his skin, it was thick underneath the layer of grime and dirt that covered the scars of his mistakes. It had burrowed into his bones, festered in the hollow of his eyes; how terrible he must look to people like her.
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murphy bby
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