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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Mar 14, 2015
They all had numbers. If you didn't have a number, you were hunted. Either killed, or forced to have a number. You weren't a name, you were just a number. Friends were the only ones who called you by a name. Everyone had one. Except for me. I didn't have one. They wanted me. I was on the run.
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You thought he was dead, the police thought he was dead, everyone thought he was dead, and it was your fault. You had only ever wanted to belong. You wanted friends, you wanted to be cared about, and you found that. Only, you found it in a cult that spat you out and left you to fend for yourself, just as they had to 𝙝𝙞𝙢.

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