Before Death

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At only eight, he was chained to a chair, knees bent uncomfortably into his stomach and arms drawn horizontally across his exposed chest. His ribs provided the only sort of familiaraity in the dark place.

            He blended with the dim background. His missing fingernails were the only splotch of color within the seemingly endless emptiness. 

Sudden screaching piereced the shadows, enmeshing him in a ray of light so brilliant, he thought it an angel. He remembered muscled arms, slim silver glasses, and the highlighted glow of a license plate that read, QWAMMY. 

Never again did he feel such dreaded lonliness.         

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