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... e became aware of everything in those strange hollow days, in fragments, through the fog of pain and sedatives and a body that was healing at its own pace and nobody else’s.
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t open her eyes. Couldn’t speak. She could only lie there and register the world in pieces, careful hands cleaning her wounds without roughness, warm soup fed through a straw, quiet efficient voices doing their jobs around her without cruelty.
No cruelty. That alone felt strange enou ...
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