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The clock is ticking, as blood dripped onto the wooden boards

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The clock is ticking, as blood dripped onto the wooden boards. What was an innocent game has left us all on edge. Screams are muffled by the ones we called our friends. For someone has snapped leaving us trapped.

The only one waiting is Death who stands just around the corner. With nothing more than a bloody knife and a note goodbye.

The clock is ticking while we wait for sunrise.

The clock is ticking while we wait for sunrise

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