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Simple Debauchery

It wasn’t so much the smell. One could get used to the putrid scent, and indeed she had, and not want to hold their nose of retch. No, it wasn’t that. She swallowed hard as she forced herself to meet that stare without flinching, barely breathing, because refused to draw attention to herself or show any sign of weakness. The leering look she received in return actually made the knot in her stomach loosen slightly in relief and she gave a mental sigh. That would be the order of the day then; simple debauchery and not a re-enactment of the horrors that kept her from sleeping at night.

It was curious to her that she couldn’t recall if her nightmares were actually a product of her own imagination or simply scattered recollections of her time here. It really mattered very little whether the experience had warped her mind to the point it tortured itself with new, creative and original taunts or the past were haunting her still. The future haunted her enough that such minor details were irrelevant.

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