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She was dying- a slow painful death, just like she deserved. Her blood was slowly running out. In fifteen minutes Clara Warren will be dead. "Help me... Abbie help..." Clara moaned.
they say, that her skin smelt like plasticine. and her tongue, she treated it like glass, constantly careful because the backlash didn't just hit them.
Chapter 6: Fire I awoke coughing,and to the smell of something burning.
Chapter 5: slave The ship was beautiful,the wood was smooth and glossy with small gold designs.