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A STRANGE DREAM II

The women. Emma recognized them, knew they were out there, alive, no manacles, not buried beneath the earth but able to move freely around. Especially the one that resembled her. She was just out of her mind's reach, yet she could almost touch her.

Why didn't the woman come to her?

Emma could summon up no face, no past, only the knowledge that she was out there somewhere. She called to her. Begged. Pleaded. Raged. She had a feeling the latter was related to her. But where was she? Why wouldn't she come to her? Why did she allow her agony to continue when even her presence in her mind would ease the terrible sense of isolation? What had she done that was so terrible that she deserved this?

Anger found its way into her world. Hatred, even. In the place of a girl, a monster grew, deadly, dangerous, grew and thrived on the pain, became a will impossible to crush. Fifty years, a hundred - what did it matter if she traveled to the very gates of hell for revenge? She already resided there,
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