Carefully tending to his chores helped Curt make it through the mornings. It was best to keep your head down and work without complaint. Looking through the dank hall, he saw others mopping floors while yet more young men carried piles of neatly folded sheets for placement throughout the dorm.

68 days.
67 nights.

He knew every day would be the same. There was nothing he could do to stop the madness that came with sunset in Dorm F. They called it that. The guards. If you came here, you were fucked. Curt was fucked. He looked at the clock on the wall.

11:31 am.
It was Winter.
4:46 pm was dusk.
Curt had to hurry.



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