The Distant Nightmare
The fluorescent lights hummed a low, sick note in the sterile white room, a sound that drilled directly into the base of Marcus’s skull. He sat at the metal table, his hands clasped so tightly that the knuckles turned the color of old bone, a pale, waxy white that seemed to absorb the harsh light rather than reflect it. Across from him, Director Halloway adjusted his tie, the silk catching the...
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