Pyramania
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Every time he died, there was always a slight hesitation, an inkling of a thought in the back of his brain, ‘Is this it? Will this be the time it finally sticks?’ But it never happens. He always wakes up, bones creaking and shifting, gaping wounds sewing themselves back together in an impossible fashion, blood beginning to pump again as air rushes through healing lungs. It’s not that he can’t die, rather, he can’t stay dead.