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The less Elita ate, the more the boundary between dreams and reality blurred. Sleep haunted by a captivating vision of the end she can't decide whether or not she wants, Elita is a bloated corpse, appealing only to the most sleepy-eyed, soft-spoken vulture. What will take priority- embracing the wishes of her sick brain, or escaping the violent whims of the real demons creeping through her classrooms?
