[Presea sits in the corridor, axe on her lap and rag in hand, and listens to her own voice. But the voice is different. Her voice, from before, when her physical age matched her mental, before everyone had died and left her. The frightened, ever so emotional voice of a child.]
It's okay... I will continue with Papa's job. I've been helping him all
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Can you hear it?
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I'm okay.
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Words from the past can never hurt us. Keep on ignoring them, Presea!
"And besides, that was several lifetimes ago. A lot of time has flowed underneath the bridge since all that happened to me." [adds the sombre voice of his eighth self.]
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