The thin mattress covering the bunk beneath did little to disguise the hard metal base. It creaked as I shifted, the two support bars locking it to the wall thick with rust and chipped paint in so many layers it was impossible to make out the original shade. I did my best to sit quietly, to hold myself still and calm, though my mind whirled without my consent while the burden of the heat of the dying day turned to a chill to match my heart. I'd killed my father. I'd dreamed of it though I'd rejected it so many times. Because I didn't want to be like him, a bully, a beast. Even more now, knowing what he really was. A monster. A dragon. Dear blessed light, he really was a dragon. Not some tattoo job as I imagined since I was a child, not fake contacts to enhance his eyes. Power, real power
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