CHILD 12070

CHILD 12070

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    LECTURES 301
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    Votes 26
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    Chapitres 10
WpMetadataReadEn cours d'écriture2h 46m
WpMetadataNoticeDernière publication dim., nov. 27, 2022
12070. The number whispered in my mind. Menacing, dooming, yet soothing, like the hug of a python before it chokes. I knew what it was. It was my name - but it wasn't. Confusion clouded my thinking, and I wanted to scream again. My throat closed, and I felt my chest spasm as panic gripped me once more. No, I was not going to have a panic attack. Tough girls didn't have panic attacks. Tough. That final word rang clear and loud. I was a tough girl. Almost like the first word of a well-known cliche, my name fell into place beside "tough." Brianny. My real name.
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#77
dystopian-future
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This is an older story, I've gotten better I promise. "I first held a gun when I was eight. I remember a man strolling across a line of other children like me, he said: 'We all have a soldier in us.' I found my soldier. But then, it became all I was. " Being forced into the army at a young age, Olivia knew nothing more than fighting. But after suffering a debilitating injury, she is forced to retire to her dead parents' home. There she'll find the secrets of her world and her humanity. Edit: I'm glad I decided to go against my anxiety and post this story, thanks so much to all the people who have read my story and commented! Your advice and compliments mean the world to me!

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