abbey that weren’t accessible. They were in me. I could feel them, deep, dark, secreted away in a mind that had been impressionable but uncomprehending. They weren’t exactly memories, because memory is stored by a brain that functions and mine hadn’t during those traumatic hours. More like imprints. Photographs snapped but not understood. Conversations overheard. Things seen. It would take work to dredge them from the muck at the bottom of my psyche. But I would. The LM hadn’t expected me to ever escape. Rowena hadn’t expected me to live. “Surprise,” I purred. “I did.” I tossed back the sheet
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