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70 TWO WEEKS AGO

Author: AUTHOR_NEON
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-07-27 15:39:22

CONRAD WILLIAM'S POV

Two weeks ago.

Before everything spun out of control.

I woke up at my usual time—4:30 a.m. sharp. No alarm. My body doesn't need one anymore. It's trained, like everything else I let them mold in me.

I put on my running shoes and stepped out into the cold. Jogging helps. The quiet streets. The rhythm. The illusion of control. For an hour, I let my mind shut down. Let my feet hit the pavement like clockwork.

By the time I came back to the mansion, the world had just begun to stir.

7:00 a.m. I stood in the kitchen, alone, brewing my coffee. Just how I like it—strong, bitter, black.

I headed upstairs, cup in hand. My room was still as sterile as ever. No photos. No clutter. Just walls, a bed, a desk, and silence.

Too much silence.

I put down the cup and started undressing for a shower.

That's when I caught sight of my back in the mirror.

Red lines. Faded bruises. Old scars.

Some were forced on me.

Some, I gave myself.

Each one had a story I didn't want to remember.

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