in medias res

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I lay on the floor in a heap of sweat and ripped fabric; my heart palpitating, my mind racing

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I lay on the floor in a heap of sweat and ripped fabric; my heart palpitating, my mind racing. I feel as though I'm dead, as though I'm being carried to hell like the sinner I am. Yet, I'm not. But why? Is it because of what Samuel had told me all those years ago? Is it because death be too ghetto?

a.n kinda crappy start ik but it gets better in the next chapters :)))) please stick along for the ride

xoxo mary~

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