Laura - 1963I struggle to breathe. My lungs seem empty as if they've been dormant for a long time. While I try to inhale as much air as possible, a muscular arm wraps itself around me, its touch frigid against my skin. Its earthy scent mingles with the smell of mildew.The air seems stale as if no one has thought to open a window in years. What am I doing here? How did I end up here? Who's standing next to me? A whirlwind of questions invades my head, and I can't tell them apart.As I remember the scene with the hooded men, the blade comes into focus, along with the pain and numbness. My fingers reach for my neck. No cut there, no pain. I struggle to move, but the man's grip holds me like in a vise. This is not how I pictured my first time laying with a man or sharing a bed and cuddling.My fingers go through the mattress, and I feel something crumbly and hard, granules beneath my nails. I raise my hand and it's filled with dirt, black, dry soil. Never m
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