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  • The Sins We Inherit
    156 14 7

    I am dead. But death is not quiet. It is not peace. It is a hollow, rotting thing that peels me apart piece by piece. I see my sins carved into the walls, whispering in voices I almost recognize. They say I deserve this. They say I was always meant to end up here. Maybe they're right. Maybe I was doomed before I even...