The Pale Circus
You wake in a room that smells of wet concrete and old blood. The air is thick. It presses against your skin. You are lying on a thin mat. The floor is cold. Your head aches. A dull, rhythmic throb behind your eyes. You try to sit up. Your body resists. It feels heavy. Lead-heavy. You look at your hands. They are trembling. The nails are dirt-caked. Under the fingernails, there is dark grime....
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