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9

“Eh? He’s still sleeping? How boring.” It was a distant voice that got closer as the sentence ended. The feeling of recovering from a dream was always a strange one. You never knew if what you were hearing was part of the dream or if it was finally turning into reality.

I opened my eyes and regretted it. It was reality. I wished for a moment that it was simply a figment of my subconscious world and I’d be in my own bed after waking up. Mom would probably tell me to hurry up since I’d be getting late for school and then I’d rush down for breakfast, finding my idiot drunkard father familiarly sprawled across the couch. It would be a normal weekday morning. Could it not be like that?

It didn’t matter. It was reality. No matter how shitty things feel, they are never a dream, it’s always a reality.

It was Alpha, he was crouched outside the jail cell, peaking in curiously. He had the expression of a child wanting to play with his new p

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