The Pale Bridge
The needle pierced the skin. It was a small puncture. A pinpoint of red. Mara watched it bloom. The vial was empty. She capped the syringe. Her hands did not shake. They never shook. Not anymore. The office was cold. The air conditioning hummed. A low, electric drone. It vibrated in her teeth. She looked at the clock. Three minutes. That was all. Three minutes until the next dose. The bottle on...
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