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Take

After the first time, he tried to get out, but that distracted him, made him forget what he was doing. Soon he’d given up and fallen asleep again, only to wake up in horror.

Then, he tried pacing. But after a while he felt silly and sat down. Only to wake up screaming.

So he tried again. Quite a few times. Blisters in his feet. A red ring decorated the floor like a carpet. But his heart started jumping painfully in his chest. Palpitations, exhaustion and sleep.

He’d been awake for a long time before he figured it out. He was starving. It hurt so much he couldn’t sleep. He mumbled a laugh and looked up. He saw a sandwich. Forgetting everything he crawled toward it. Scraped and clawed his way to it, almost touched it, and woke up.

He felt his heart beat slowly. Laboriously. There was no scar. They never left any scars, but when he slept… they took things.

He could feel it when they did. Sick like something needed fixing. But thin. Empty.

He breathed slowly.
Focused hard.
Do not sleep.
And woke up again.

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