I hated the screaming. Their screaming was my screaming. The first thing I remembered after waking up as a Reboot was a shrill yell bouncing off the walls and ringing in my ears. I had thought, What idiot is making that noise?
It was me. Me, shrieking like a crack addict two days out from a fix.
Rather embarrassing. I’d always prided myself on being the quiet stoic one in every situation. The one standing there calmly while the adults lost it.
But at the age of twelve, when I woke up in the Dead Room of the hospital ...
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