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8

~Vaela

Vaguely, the sound of knocking on the front door can be heard past my hateful staring up at the ceiling, yearning for those moments I took not being sick for granted.

“She’s in the bedroom," Eyla murmurs.

She sounds so far away, and yet so close. Despite all the throwing up I have done, the dizziness still haunts me, my vision spiralling wildly. Time no longer makes sense. Days could have passed for all I know.

A figure appears at the doorway, the edges of them slightly blurry as I sit up a little more to observe them. Hale.

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