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She'll be laying there, with his groaning voice in her mind, reliving the moment she made the mistake of leaving her drink unattended whilst she went to the bathroom to take a shit, she remembers nothing after that, just waking up amongst some livestock in a field, her shirt ripped open and chunks of bloody-bread hanging out of her kunt, the scent of his rot up her nose, and the soundscapes of Pyrrhula in her ears, that stupid fukking kunt.
BREADRAPE
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