Fred O’Hearn was lost. He’d left that place he’d been put by his rotten children who were looking to steal his things. He felt the stirrings of panic, of losing the ability to notice even the most familiar of things. Eyes wide, his head swung from side-to-side trying to see something, anything that would help him know where he was. He felt a scream rip out of him.
He woke with a start, hand grasping at the air. He felt his heart start to slow down and his breathing deepen.
“I don’t want to go to the Home.”
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