The Distant Wound
The alarm did not ring so much as it seeped into the bone, a low, oscillating hum that vibrated in the marrow of your sternum before it ever reached the ear. You woke with the taste of copper and old dust on your tongue, the sheets around you damp with a sweat that smelled faintly of ozone and decay. It was not a morning; it was merely the time when the lights in the dormitory block turned a...
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