Shirts and jeans litter the asphalt, the empty fabric limbs askew as if they're attempting to escape. Blood smears Sarah's lips as she struggles against the chest of a dirty looking man with a beard. Terror. Terror is the only word my mind can seize on and it forgets what it means. I forget how to think - to move.
There, alone in the sterile room, sitting on a pink vinyl chair that boasts many cracks in its once nice upholster, you wait. You think to yourself , who would have thought I would be ringing in the New Year by urinating into a cup to see if I have chlamydia?
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There, alone in the sterile room, sitting on a pink vinyl chair that boasts many cracks in its once nice upholster, you wait. You think to yourself , who would have thought I would be ringing in the New Year by urinating into a cup to see if I have chlamydia?
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