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Genetica My father was a vampire & I get this from him: dread of daylight, sick morning quease. It is why I fight for things I don't want, this compulsion for elixir. Limbs shake & I am vile pressure sky. So ill I cannot even prepare coffee-grounds ephedrin for that liquid injection. He has given me a necklace of bones & crystal. Evil will not dare touch me. My mother slept too much, retired to bed in midday comas & I tried to revive her with forceful tea but no mechanism worked. Four o'clock was the saddest hour - no lamps on & silence corrupting. She has barely aged, all these years & people say she's a lily-skinned witch with milk baths & smokey spells. Agelessness was her gift to me. We lived in a city of sugar cube buildings, wet ruins dissolve. A doll's house, scratches on the furniture and a little toy brother. I learned to cast veils of invisibility & nobody could see resemblance in feature. In those years, my bones were made of powder.
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