The Distant Wound

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2026-08-23 07:22:55 -

The Distant Wound

The apple was soft, bruised a deep purple-black, and it smelled of wet earth and copper. Elias Vance sat on the edge of his cot in the white-walled dormitory of the State Correctional for Juvenile Deviants, holding the fruit against his chest where his skin had become faintly translucent. The light from the overhead fluorescents passed through him, revealing the dark, pulsing knot of the wound...

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