The Golden Downtown
The mud tasted of honey. "Thorne, keep your mouth shut and bleed," Corporal Miller hissed, his face a mask of grey silt and terror. He was trying to hold my shattered arm together, his fingers slick with blood, but the pressure was wrong. It felt like pressing a ripe peach. I wanted to scream, but the sound that came out was a wet, sticky hum. The shrapnel had taken the radius of my left...
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