“And maybe she couldn’t have stopped me being convicted, but she could’ve told them the truth. She could’ve stood up and said something. She could’ve opened her fucking mouth and talked,” I growled, my throat tight and burning. “But she stayed quiet, and you went into solitary for three years, and your friends fended for themselves while your mind slowly slipped off its axis and you’d rip out your own hair because animals do insane things when they’re caged for too long.” I panted, trying to lower my voice. “Three years,” I said, seething. “Three. Years. Rika.” I paused, evening out my voice
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