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It was a form of oblivion, a return to the womb. She was alone in the dark. There was no furniture in the cramped basement cell, only a thin, worn mattress thrown on the cold cement floor. A noisome hole in the floor served as a toilet. Tracy lay there in the blackness,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], humming folk songs to herself that her father had taught her long ago. She had no idea how close she was to the edge of insanity.
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