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... a Very Angry Sara I
None of them had all their limbs intact. Some were completely limbless, being little more than bloodied sacks of meat and bone slumped on the ground.
Flies the size of my thumb buzzed in broad, droning clouds, landing on open wounds, and crawling across the staring eyes of the victims.
The air stank of rot, decay, iron, and the sour reek of sweat caused by fear.
This was a torture facility. A thoughtfully surreptitious one.
These people had ...
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