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MELLOW FANNING LUPIN IS DEAD

A harsh ringing in my head says I’m fucked. Too fucked.

My back aches so bad, and where I’m lying on feels moist and hard, carrying a metallic musky smell that leaves me heady.

Opening my eyes, I find the place is dim and foggy. But it doesn’t mean I don’t see the little pools of water at different spots on the floor, which are probably from the drops leaking through the ceiling.

I try to sit up with a groan. Large space full of undecipherable stuff. Metals walls. Ceiling made of iron ...

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