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Summary
On fucking hold until I can stomach writing again
Social Anxiety, that's what the psychiatrists called it in the asylum, the reason for you clamming up and not being able to get a single word out without the world's worst stutter. You hadn't planned on joining up with a gang again, but Charles had convinced you to give it another chance. The gang has taken to calling you 'Wolf' because you often sit back and observe, not to mention a peculiar set of scars.