The Golden Song
1912. November. The rain has not stopped for three days. It beats against the high, barred windows of the Blackwood Asylum like a thousand frantic hands, trying to get in. I am Elias Thorne, twenty-four, a junior inspector with ink-stained fingers and a debt that eats me alive. The bank note is in my breast pocket, burning against my ribs. It says the loan is due by the first. If I do not pay,...
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