Wellington Street

In which we take a stroll down a very strange stretch of road.

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Building 8 "Fire in the Walls"

Leaving town tonight. Bags packed. We know where, but that doesn't matter. Just need to get away from this house. From this street. From the smell that won't go away.

Thought about cleaning it up, but it's in the fibers of the rug now. Seeped into the floor. Considered burying what was left of Lloyd. Decided against it. What would be the point? Barely anything left to bury anyhow.

And what is left was hardly what he really was.

Came home when she called me. Margaret. She was screaming. Had tried calling the police. Tried leaving the house. Only number that worked was mine. I tried to get her out when I arrived but he wouldn't let me. Wouldn't let us leave.

Wanted us to know. Wanted us to know why.

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