In Medias Res Then, as the water washes you clean again and your pulse begins to calm, the words in your head come slower and slower. “Soon baby, soon. But drink this and you’ll have a taste of heaven. And you’ll be going home soon. But not yet. Not. Quite. Yet." And you obey, I obey and we wanna live. The water’s cold and we’re alive and I wanna li—
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