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It was sleep that wasn’t sleep. Maybe more of a doze. She knew time was passing, she could hear the burbles of her tank’s ventilation, she could think, but she certainly wasn’t awake. All the more evidence to add to her theory of being in limbo.
It wouldn’t have been that bad if it weren’t for the fact that she now had too much time to think. To process. To relive.
. . .
Marcy agonizes over her decisions and realizes that she hates herself more than she thought.