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Chapter 17: Lost Boy’s Lair
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Chapter 19: Words of Hate
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... make me feel alive again. My dream journal wasn't by hand, and it made me nervous. The sun was up, and it wasn't snowing anymore. I climbed off the bed and looked out of the window. The lake looked black under the gray winter sky. The events of the last night seemed like a strange dream, too unbelievable to be real. But they were. I remembered the muffled sounds of bodies hitting the snow, the dark shapes of rusting trains in the abandoned railroad museum, and the acrid smell of burnt wool in th ...
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