Author note

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This is the rewrite!

My death that loomed over me was as easy to except as my parents hatred. It was inevitable by scary at the same time. Part of me was relieved from the relief from this wretched thing called living, the other smaller part was scared, not for my life but for what would happen once I die.
I was not afraid not die, who would be if they were put through this torture day in and out? My parents sold me to a lab when I was 4, the image of their laughter was impressed into my mind as they book me away. A barcode tattooed just under my left eye would brand me theirs. The scientists would look at me with malicious eye, injecting substances and inflicting pain. I've had 129 surgeries in my short 2 years here all of which I was wake for. Living was now pure torture. So when I heard I was going into a procedure with a 90% chance of death, I got my hopes up.

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