(Oh, and if you think it's frustrating reading bits of a story in 10 sentence increments, try WRITING the story that way.)
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Entry 11
I write this from memory as I was, obviously, unable to type
out an entry as events were occurring.
At some point after my last writing, I fell unconscious. I remember the over-head lights hurting my
eyes but being unable to adjust them. I
remember racking coughs and sweat-soaked sheets.
I remember her.
I thought she was an illusion, a conjuring of my dying brain.
Fevers, as I well know, induce swelling of cerebral tissues and make synapses
fire irregularly, causing hallucinations.
These typically precede death by the space of a few hours.
But I didn't die, and she wasn't a fever dream.
I am prisoner 1138 but my name is Abraham bin Navi
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