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Weekly Contest #364
Content warnings: Physical violence, substance use, coarse language Carey can't bring himself to look away from the buzzing fluorescent overhead. The only other thing to look at in the gray-walled room is his bloody hands, and looking at them makes it all real. And he'll have none of that. He startles when the door opens and catches a brief look at himself in the one-way window. He looks like he's been trampled by a horse. It's the tired detective, Brady, who comes through the door, two steaming paper cups in hand. She puts the cups in front...
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