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She hadn’t known to be afraid. Even now, she didn’t know if she was allowed to be.
Lying was a form of survival, a way out of whatever trap had been set. Some animals chewed off their own limbs to escape. Effy just tucked away truth after truth, until even she wasn’t sure if there was a real person left at all, under all those desperate, urgent lies.
That was the cruelest irony: the more you did to save yourself, the less you became a person worth saving.
