I wake up. My dreams are nothing but terrible. All there is are the arms, the robotic arms, grabbing at me, sometimes ripping my mouth open and off. Today I don’t know how I will handle it when they appear again. I don’t know if I want to just go numb to the fear or the pain, or if I should try to fight back again.
I’m on my bed, again. I get up, again. I’m back to how I was before, again. At least my foot is healed. The lamp is probably fixed now so I might as well try to break out again. I briefly think back to when I broke it into pieces for my brace. It was sharp… maybe I could...
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