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Had someone called my name?

A real name, not the one given to me in this story.

The familiar scent of old books and worn in furniture greeted me as I took in my surroundings.

It was my room, unchanged from the day I left it.

The same cluttered desk, the same faded posters on the wall, the same worn-out armchair in the corner.

I looked down at my hands, at my body.

It was me.

The real me, not Rel Laurence, the fictional character I ...

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