The Distant Whispers

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2026-08-18 00:25:39 -

The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a grey curtain that blurred the boundary between the parking lot and the asphalt road leading out of the St. Jude’s Rehabilitation Center. Margaret Holloway sat in the passenger seat of a rusted sedan, her hands folded in her lap, watching the wiper blade sweep back and forth in a rhythmic, mechanical trance. The driver, a man named Silas whose name she...

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