The Golden Scar
The alarm did not ring. That was the first thing. The silence was a physical weight, pressing against my eardrums, heavier than the concrete walls of the Unit. I woke to the smell of ozone and burnt sugar. A sweet, cloying rot. The air filtration system had failed. I knew this because the rhythmic hum that had been my lullaby for six years was gone. In its place was a stillness so profound it...
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