Scratch, scratch, scratch

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I continue scratching the wall in a failed attempt to remove the stuck parts of the wallpaper. I can see something is written underneath it. It might be the key to get me out of here.

My fingernails are bloody from how hard I have been scratching.

My face is pressed against the wall as I continue my weak attempt of trying to peel of the wallpaper. My fingernails continue to bleed, but I do not think I feel anything other than confusion.

"Come off. Come off. Come off," I have been repeating.

"Scratch, scratch, scratch." I whisper.

"Please, please, please," I am pleading but I do not know for what or to whom or why.

I am just so confused...

ConsequencesTempat cerita menjadi hidup. Temukan sekarang