[Begin Recording]
(Silence for a few minutes before her voice comes in. She’s whispering, and it sounds as if she’s speaking too close to the microphone. Her words are hard to understand, as if she’s talking through tears.)Can’t breath. Scratching sounds. Like claws on wood. From behind me. Don’t turn. It’s not real if I don’t turn. Count
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Who's messin' with you, babe. Tell me.
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