I don't like the night. There is nothing beautiful about it any more. It's a memory and a fear. He's a monster. I want to hide. I can't escape. I'm lost and I can't go back. I'm in my own little Hell. My Hell is to walk outside at night, and go back to a dark empty room without windows, where I can think.
There is a part I can't tell. About the dark I know well.
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