[They're quieter in the morning. Restless, but still waking from years of reluctant sleep. Still only shadows.
It's the afternoon that stirs them. They've been there all along, thinking and dreaming of you. You, who took their lives and stole their homes.
This is not where you belong. Get out.The slow stiffness of death haunts their movements as
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H-help me...
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Save me...
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Who are you afraid of?
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