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Like a lingering memory of booze on her tongue, Subspace Tripmine refuses to leave the confines of her mind. The wounds on her cheek burn bittersweet like a kiss, fresh blood staining the sheets.
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Summary
He's entangled in a red thread, leading him in loops.
Something is different this time though, as poison drips from his eye.
His vision is swimming. He wasn't supposed to be alive. He wasn't supposed to wake up.

