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... s torn, blood-streaked clothes in dismay. The dim glow of passing streetlights cast flickering shadows across his face, revealing the exhaustion in his eyes. It was past midnight, and he was scared of going home in this attire.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. His gaze landed on his ID card. A hotel seemed like a better option. He was past eighteen now.
He didn’t want to go somewhere that might recognise him. With a quick search on his phone, he settled on a mo ...
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