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The Ninth: Prologue Prologue
My life is terrible. I have no face that is truly mine. I cannot remember what I used to look like. But I do remember that cold darkness.
The first time, is was a burning. It stung to the bone and it felt as if my life itself were melting. That I can remember clearly, as the most painful.
The second time, it was quicker. It was swift. It was clean. But it was compressed, and it hurt greatly. It was completly blinding. There was nothing else but that pain.
The third time, I can barely remember, but it must have been the one of the worst. It was slow, and annoying. As if it wouldn't make its way quick enough. Nobody was there, it
PREY NO MOREPREY NO MORE
Rope dug into Patrick’s wrists as he struggled to free his hands. His hot, damp breath washed over his face, trapped by the fabric sack secured over his head.
A floorboard creaked. Patrick froze, his back rigid against the chair, and strained his ears. Another creak.
“Hello?” he called.
The sound of swishing fabric.
“Who’s there? Where am I? Why’d you bring me here?” Blurred memories swam through his mind: drinking at the bar; stumbling home; a shadow sweeping out from an alley.
Fingers grasped his chin and jerked his head upward. “Hush.” A woman’s voice.
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More