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... h my battered body. I hung limply from the cold iron chains, blood trickling slowly down my wrists, leaving sticky trails that cooled in the chill air. The cuffs bit cruelly into my skin, metal teeth gnawing deeper with every slight shift, every involuntary twitch.
Eight years old. I'd lived eight short years in this world, believing I was strong, believing my power was unstoppable, untouchable. Now, each fresh wave of pain shattered that illusion, reminding me cruelly how weak, vulnerab ...
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