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Montgomery Brown woke up in a cold sweat, panting erratically. He let out a few sputtering breaths, leaning back against his pillows as he tried to erase the feeling of hands on his body, the blows to his face, the vice-like grip on his arms.

He couldn't keep doing this. He never got any sleep, hardly ever ate, and the only person he talked to nowadays was DJ. DJ, who made him feel so giddy, but also so scared. Scared that when he told her, she'd leave.

Scared that she'd hate him.

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