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Exploring worlds, one archive at a time.

Joined January 2023
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You felt pressure against your head. Then a sharp little sting. You lifted a hand and traced it with the pad of your finger, following the tender line beneath your hair. Your mind raced back to the night of the accident. The bus. The collision. And then— A flash of light.
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“You’re awake. Great,” the nurse said. Her voice was probably not the best thing to hear after waking from a coma. High-pitched, almost sharp enough to split your head open. “Where am I?” “Mount Sinai.” She smiled.
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He gave a small shrug, his expression troubled. “Mary was usually composed, so hearing her even hint at something like that shocked me. But she told me not to worry—she said she had a plan.”
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He let out a heavy sigh. “She despised Mason for it. Hated him so much she wanted him gone. But not with her own hands—Mary was too careful for that. She wouldn’t let something like slashing tires ruin her career, let alone something as serious as murder.”
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Mary loved her job—her profession meant everything to her. If Mason exposed what she’d done, it would ruin her credibility. Worse, she could lose her license. A psychiatrist with anger issues? She hated the thought.”
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Martin nodded grimly. “Yeah. Mary decided to stop his sessions with Mason when he started being weird with her, but he blackmailed her into accepting him again.
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The listener chuckled faintly but quickly frowned in irritation. “Mason filmed her? Then blackmailed her?”
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He shook his head. “What she didn’t know was that Mason was there. He was following her and filmed the whole thing.”
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It was a long drive, and one day, just as she was about to park, someone stole her spot and flipped her off. She lost it—got out of her car and slashed the guy’s tires after he went inside.”
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He hesitated before continuing. “Mary wasn’t perfect, okay? She used to volunteer at a hospital in the city, offering free therapy sessions once a week for patients who couldn’t afford it.
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After playing the tape, Martin cleared his throat. “So, that’s Mason,” he said, his voice uneasy. He leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck. “I knew him because we ran into each other here a few times. And, well, Mary hated him.”
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The expressions they wore weren’t those of shock or curiosity—they were of unease, even hostility. And in that moment, Martin realized he was standing among people where two of them seemed to have a stake in Mary’s disappearance. And they were not happy to see him.
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But as he scanned the room, his breath caught in his chest. He recognized two of their faces. A chill ran down his spine.
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He bent down, retrieving a dusty box of tapes from the floor. “I think I’m close to finding out,” he said, holding the box out to them. “Here.”
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He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “I’ve been staying here, trying to find out what happened to her—or, at the very least, find her, dead or alive.” His voice cracked, and sadness washed over his face.
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“Who are you?” Martin raised his hands slowly, a gesture of peace. “Wait—I mean no harm,” he said, his voice hoarse from lack of use. He stood, and a few people stepped back, startled. “I’m Mary’s, well, ex-lover.” He hesitated, the words catching in his throat.
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When the door swung open, a flood of light poured in. Martin instinctively shielded his eyes with his arm, squinting as the brightness overwhelmed him. The dim, dying bulb he’d been living with for days had left his vision unadjusted.
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He heard footsteps outside the hidden room, followed by the faint sound of someone punching in the access code. His heart raced. Sooner or later, they would break in. Perhaps that was for the best. Maybe they could help him find Mary—or her body.
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She wanted to revisit their words later, analyzing them more thoroughly, but during the sessions, she wanted to be completely present for them. Now, those tapes were his only lead.
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Martin knew the tapes were unethical, even illegal—recording patients without their consent was a violation of trust. But Mary had rationalized it, telling her patients the recordings were for her diagnoses.
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