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FreedomI stumble, blindly, darkness. Tripping, falling, maddness anger rage halting explosive falter-sputter-twitch-choke. Land. I feel... under my hand. Cold but I don't know its name. Moving, flow and drift, leaping and obstructing my blind eyes. I fall again, I'm submerged, deep within I hear a thing, a voice that's been with me since my birth.
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"Escape!" Not as a word, but an idea, a gesture. I reach, I pull, I struggle and find something. Surface. Air. Freedom from this. This hopelessness. Something hard I feel and tug and I am above that which I had to escape from. The voice again.
"Feed!" Again, I do not hear or understand words, I am only obliged to follow a feeling. I stumble still, for I don't know or feel what is around me, only follow the feelings that I know to feel. It would be called survival, if I understood what the word meant, if I understood words. I only know hunger. I search, following a pull on me until I have fallen upon something else that can move. I