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Words throb at the tip of my tongue. My fingers, yearning to spill such intimacies across the keys in front of me, staining the page with wildling tales of Man and swine. 

Reduced to a thing that craves his cruelty, as he huffs and puffs with malicious intent. I fear him, I do, and rightly so. But not for the reasons thought or known. 

Blow my house down, I beg of you. Let my walls come tumbling down. And when you find me amid the rubble… Maybe then I’ll no longer have to stifle the beast within myself.

There’s a scream in my soul. A shrill, blood curdling squealing. One for the ages. And oh how I dream of the way you’ll tear it out of me…

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