The Pale Exile

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-23 17:21:29 -

The Pale Exile

March 12, 1998 The suspect did not die from the blows I struck; he died from the silence that followed. I remember the specific weight of him against my chest, the wet warmth of blood soaking through my shirt, and the terrible, static clarity of the mirror on the wall behind him. In the reflection, my face was not my own. It was a corpse’s face, pale and slack, the eyes hollowed out by a...

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