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... as if bound by iron bands. The cheerful voices from dinner still echoed in the dining room, but all I could hear was the deafening rush of blood in my ears. My fingernails dug crescent moons into my palms as images flashed behind my eyelids - Ace facing drawn swords, Ray bleeding in the dirt, Philip’s laughter silenced forever. The wooden floorboards creaked under my unsteady feet as I bolted for the door.

The evening air slapped my face, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine needle ...

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