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Their cries echo through his heart, whispers of sin. His ears ring with the horror all over again. With his entire being he weeps for them, an overflowing stream of what should’ve been.
Dark shadows creep across his vision, projections of his self-loathing prison. Within him he carries an inevitable battle, one of regret, sorrow, and division.
A quite voice reminds him he is powerfully whole. Like the nameless faces, he’s a victim of the wicked deeds of man, of the world shattering pursuit of control. He falls to his knees, bows his head, and begins repairing his soul.