The Pale Tale
The winter solstice arrived not with light, but with a silence that pressed against the windows of St. Jude’s Psychiatric Institute like a physical weight. Elias Thorne sat on the edge of the narrow cot, his hands trembling as he unfolded the crumpled transfer order he had stolen from the nurse’s station an hour prior. The paper was thin, brittle, and stained with the faint, cold moisture that...
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