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Panic Age

Panic Age

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Jan 3, 2020
Riley Summers lives in a society where on your 18th birthday a number is written on your cheek. The number stands for the age you are going to die. You're not sure when you will die during the age but you will not live past that number. On Riley's 18th birthday she finds herself looking in the mirror and watching the number grow on her face. She's shocked to see the number 16 tattooed to her face. This couldn't be real. Shes 18 how did she live past her death age? Read more to find out.
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You have no idea how many times I found myself waiting for Riley to come over. But he never did. And I don't know why, but I found myself staring out my window... hoping he'll look out his window and smile at me like he always does... use to anyway. Then again; I missed his lips too. The lips I tasted way too much on Friday. The lips I'm craving to have on me. But they aren't even mine to have. And I feel like my world has slanted and like it's no where near me. Like I have to run an extra mile to make up for every step I should of took; for every step I should be taking. I can't help but wonder why he hasn't come by and apologize. Is he home? Is he with Marie? Does she know? Should I be scared or something? Is he mad at me? Or himself? I stood up and walked up to my full-length mirror that's attached to my closet door. I looked at my naked body. I passed my right hand over my belly. Flat. I raised my hand over my right breast. But I didn't touch it. Sigh. I turned to my side and looked at thigh and my butt. My butt sticks out a bit more than my thigh. As always. Nothing had changed. Just my feelings. My feelings about everything in my life. Suddenly, I felt anger.

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