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... eneath my skin.
The lights above are too bright, too white. My belly is bared to the sterile air, and my fingers twitch against my thighs—tight, restless. I can’t remember the last time I was somewhere this clean. This safe.
I don’t trust it.
Not yet.
The doctor hums softly as he rolls his stool closer. He offers a polite smile, but I barely see it. My eyes are glued to the probe in his hand and the clear gel bottle he uncaps without warning.
A shiver jolt ...
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