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Gone
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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Jul 2, 2017
I went missing, they found me, there telling me it was all in my mind that I'm delusional, there trying to help me separate reality from fantasy. But I don't think they can help me I knew a long time ago that I was fucked up or like they call it....'different' they say it's good to be different but I beg a differ.
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I was a victim of a serial killer-the only one who made it out alive. I was kidnapped when I was 19. Kept in a small, suffocating room with no light, no sense of time, no hope. My only companions were the screeching of rats and the silence that gnawed at my sanity slowly. I tried to escape-of course I did. But the room offered nothing. No tools, no weak points. Nothing. My captor knew this. He made sure of it. So I stopped hoping for freedom. I knew how this story would end. And when I dreamed, it was of light and voices-a cruel trick of my mind. Until one day, the dream felt different.

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