ninety seven;

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on an almost septem
ber night, i filled my bl
ood with fairy dust and
cured my aches. little did
i know, my father dete
rmined that that was th
e night i was off the
deep end...

so he disowned
me.
so he berated
me.
so he orphaned
me.

vixens; victims; vicodins [editing]Où les histoires vivent. Découvrez maintenant