The Pale Echo
The porcelain cup shattered against the linoleum floor with a sound that was less a crack and more a scream, a jagged white tear in the quiet of the infirmary room. Elias watched the shards scatter, each piece catching the sterile, humming light of the overhead fluorescents, and he felt a strange, cold satisfaction settle into his marrow. He was twelve years old, though he often felt older,...
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