[05.00] [August 27, 2015]

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There is a ghost.

He walks the halls of this place, feeling the stone as he moves. I don't know his name, or where he came from but he is my ghost. He cannot see my ghost.

He sits next to me on the stone that we sleep on, watching over me, dusty blonde hair glinting in the harsh light from the corridor.

I do not know his name.

The door screams open again, we look up. It is one of the faceless guards that fill the halls, he beckons us with his hand. As we leave I catch a glimpse of the cell again. My ghost is gone.

There are two people in the watcher-room, Pierce and a guard. Pierce has a file in his hand. They are talking to him, so I don't listen. I don't like to know who we are going to kill this time anyways.

Instead I focus on the mirror in the corner of our eye, and the face that used to be mine. The matted dark hair frames sunken eyes, the bones on our face too visible to be healthy. The scars on our neck from the six times I took full control. I can't seem to die.

I've tried 14 times total, I think once was when I was still Real, each time they wipe us and start over but I remember. He doesn't. They don't know I remember, they like to ignore the fact that I still exist.

My ghost slips through the open door and stands across the room from me, staring with a small smile, blue eyes soft and welcoming. I stare back.

"I'm coming" He whispers, the voice soft, too deep for his small frame. He's never spoken before. It must be the poison rushing through my veins like a muddy river.



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