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All Phillip could do was stare.

He'd woken awhile ago, but had no idea whether it had been minutes or hours since he'd lost consciousness. He laid on his side and stared at the other bed.

The empty bed.

Barnum

(his body)

had been removed from the room some time ago. Phillip had screamed again upon regaining consciousness, had demanded to see the ringmaster,

(his body)

but nobody would listen. A doctor - the same doctor who had been in the room before - came in and threatened to use sedatives if he continued with his screaming. So Phillip had quieted, as commanded of him, but now he wouldn't say a word. All he could do was stare at the place where Barnum

(his body)

had taken his final breath.

The door opened. Phillip didn't turn over.

All he could do was stare.

"Oh, Phillip," somebody whispered. He felt soft hands on the back of his neck, his face. When he still wouldn't turn over, he heard murmuring. He vaguely recognized some voices

(voices of a past life)

as some of those in the circus troupe. Anne, Lettie, maybe even Charles. But still, Phillip didn't turn over. Didn't even acknowledge their presence.

All he could do was stare. 

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