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She didn't notice it until she had changed into her P.J's. After she woke up, the party went on as planned, albeit with a few odd looks in her direction, but that was to be expected.

When she and her parents arrived at home, she went upstairs to change. She had, after all, memories of wearing the same rags for months on end. Her blue tank and loose, flannel pants were her favourite sleeping clothes. Hannah then went into her bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. After turning on the light, she saw something on her left fore-arm. A shadow, a mark. She lifted it up and looked at it and nearly screamed. A tattoo. A sequence of numbers.

Terrified, she ran out of the bathroom, shutting off the lights and closing the door. Without any hesitation, she jumped into her full size bed and covered herself with the comforter.

All the months of cold, work, death, and pain.

They had all really happened.

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