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Chapter 22 Return to the castle

A week later... 

“Careful. Step, another one. We’re almost to the entrance.”

“Shut up, please!” I snap at Dawson.

I’m annoyed and unhappy with life.

It’s been a week since the surgery, and I still haven’t recovered my vision. Expectations for doing so were between 20 and 30%. The odds of staying this way forever were even higher than the odds of fixing it.

Why didn’t this happen to a murderer? To a criminal? To a corrupt person? Why, as cliché as it sounds, do bad things happen to good people?

While it is true that I have not been a saint, I do not deserve a wreath of flowers, and I do not deserve the

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