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Exposed (The Billionaire Banker 2.1)

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Then the oddest thing happens.

Perhaps it is the churn of high emotions that I almost never allow myself to indulge in, or perhaps it is the shock of seeing her again, but I am no longer standing on Kilburn High Street with badly dressed strangers shuffling around me.

I am five years old and alone and terrified in a room lit only by a naked light blub. I look down at my hands and they are covered in blood. My shirt, my shorts, my legs, even the floor around me has turned red. The blood is not fresh: my fingers are stuck to the knife. The knife is not mine. The blood is not mine. I rip the knife from my hand and let it clatter on the floor noisily. I pull my eyes away from the glinting blade, and thought I don’t want to, I let them travel along the cement floor. Until…

I come upon what I have done.

I did that!

No. It cannot be.

I open my mouth and scream for my Mommy, but no sound will come out. I scream and scream, but no one comes. No one can hear me.

No one.


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