Trauma is haunting. Twisted. It can take everything we have . . . can't it. All that we are. Well, at least mine did. Since my dog died, I've been cursed with dreams of blood and cries. Things that were once so clear are now foggy. Why have the gods plagued my life? With loss and rot. I've grown to despise the deities I was raised to worship. So why do I find myself crossing into the realm of the gods and entertaining the same ethereal beings? These three males will be the end of me.
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