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"Something quite like a prick of needle to flesh jerked her mind back to reality, a mind that seemed to drift in the clouded sea of what was once her dream land. The memory of his absence had gradually deteriorated any souvenir of his existance, a cognizance she was forced to relive with every wake. Her hands attempted to shut out a blood-curling cry that seemed to emerge from nowhere, but as she stumbled towards the crooked mirror, grasping any surface to keep her knees from snapping beneath the weight of her head, as she stared down a pair of eyes glazed in white, she began to laugh...
And she was beautiful again."-written by a friend
Susan.
17.
Taken.
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