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... am my parents' son. So when the Inquisitors came, I did exactly as they asked which was nothing. I didn't cry when they paraded my parents through the streets, past rich bastards who sneered and hurled their vile insults. I didn't cry when they forced the nooses around their necks, the thick ropes fraying against their skin like a twisted embrace. I didn't cry when the Inquisitor declared their so called treason, his voice hollow with rehearsed authority.

I didn't cry when the stools wer ...

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When you grow up, you’re mine.

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