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This is fine. She is fine. The voice Hoodie heard didn’t speak to her anymore, and she can be a normal girl. The voice doesn’t tell her to hurt anyone, to make anyone suffer, to kill anyone. This is fine. She is fine. The voice drained her of everything. Thoughts, emotions, like a parasite sucking the nutrients from its host. It made her do horrible things, but it drained her so much that she didn’t care what it made her do. It’s in complete control of her. She finally had enough of the seemingly endless torment, so she got rid of the voice. The voice went with each passing week that Hoodie took the medicine. The voice now being gone is a blessing. But why did it feel like a curse? The feeling of freedom, real freedom, is overwhelming. This is the first time in her eighteen years of living that she has control. She hates it. At night she tosses and turns without his otherworldly voice, for this is the one time of day where they’d just talk. No violence, no torture, just polite conversation. They spoke like they were old friends; spoke like their entire situation is normal. That’s why when she stopped taking the pills and heard the voice again, she didn’t tell anyone.

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