Prologue: Youth

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Thinking of it so suddenly, they say that within years, you become messed up. At the time, we were young and had nothing to fear.

But . . .

That summer.

In a disorganized apartment, a (H/C) haired figure closely watched her reflection mirror her actions. Her finger lightly smudging a thin layer of color on her lips.

Centering around boughs twisting like contorted bones, in the midst of cold stones marking homelessness a figure hid his hatred for life itself.

Surrounded by the aroma of different kinds of medicines, a towering figure aimlessly walked around before pleasingly hiding away his findings in a briefcase.

That summer, without notice, we were filled with youth for the very last time . . .

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