//Scars - Epilogue//

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Hey guys! Forewarning: this epilogue is over 14K words. (That's more than double the longest chapter thus far). So you could say it's not meant to be read in one sitting. It's sort of like a goodbye, prolonged to be as long as possible. You can stop reading whenever you want, and come back whenever you want. Or you can binge it in one sitting – that's probably what I'd do.

Or maybe you won't read this, and you'll pretend like it's not over. (Which, I mean... fair ig)

Regardless, before you read, as a last request from me, I ask you get yourself a glass of water. Maybe a snack. Take a deep breath. Take your time. You've got plenty.

Before I go, if you see any mistakes, just... shhh... this chapter was way too long for my usual editing proccess rip.

Now,

Hope you enjoy <33



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TO: Y/N

September 5th, 2048

Mama said we shud rite you letters wen we miss you. But I dont no you, so I don't no what to rite yet. My name is Carol. I turn 5 in August. Im still lerning how to rite all the words. And today Im am kind a sad becus everywon misses you. They talk about you somtimes. Daddy Yougo says your brave but stuped. Daddy Lucas says that is a bad word and he shud not say that. And Poppy says alot about you but not relly the othr big kids, I think becus there sad.

But my new sistrs say things sumtimes. Alicia says you look like Norman. I dunno becus Norman looks like Norman? Alicia said also you like cookies. I like cookies too! Jemima says your nice, and like Emma, and Ray, and Norman, but also sillier. I like being silly.

I think we wood get along alot. Thats why im sad. I wish I remembr you, becus you sound lotsa fun and nice. And if I know'd you, I would not hav to ask about you, becus when I ask it makes them sad. Emma said that Ray used to be not sad, too, but I dont remember that. Mama says I was too yung. Its furs frusta frurts frustfated me.

Please com home soon so that every one stops being sad, and we can be frens!

LOVE CAROL







Boots pounded across the ground, as breaths heaved through laboured lungs. Running... running from something, but what? From who?

What was I doing here? These woods weren't familiar– or were they?

I don't remember... I don't remember anything. Who am I, even? How long have I been here?

I had nothing but questions– and every one begged another instead of an answer.

My fingers were rough from the effort of scaling the massive trees, a task I did with the same ease I continued running with now. The same knowledge I seemed to have of these woods, of survival, of these... creatures I kept running into.

How long would this go on? When would I stop running?

My foot snagged on something– a tree root? No, a rope!

Reborn into The Promised Neverland//RayxReader//Where stories live. Discover now