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Summary
It's hard to keep track of time in Hell. Days and weeks bleed together. Sometimes the only way to keep track is by counting the new scars on your body.
Sometimes you're the one doing the stitching. Sometimes you're the one being sewn.
It's all wasted blood in the end, after all.
In the aftermath of Alastor's and Vox's falling out, Rosie puts them back together time and time again when they slink to her door with terrible wounds. When she's hurt, who will be there to do the same?
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