this prison they called a city. At its heart, the city was black because of the people in power. But, to the naked eye, it was a beautiful jail cell—miles and miles of thick pine and oak, rolling emerald hills, and lush grass. The great outer wall wasn’t even visible, its eastern gate a good three-mile walk from here, the city’s center. Despite the surrounding nature, a faint static hummed through the air and never stopped. Perhaps the sound was just a figment of my imagination, but the buzzing undercurrent taunted me. A reminder that I was nothing more than a trapped creature who was subject
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