Page 90 of Buried in Blood

---

And I hear it.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

A whisper. A memory. A curse.

I force myself to breathe through it. In. Out. In. Out.

But the voice grows louder.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

I sit up. Cover my ears.

It’s not in the room.

It’s inme.

Buried beneath my skin, stitched into my veins. The chant isn’t just a rule—it’s a rhythm. A heartbeat. A fucking brand.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

Obedience is golden. Sin is cleansed.

I dig my nails into my thigh, sharp enough to break skin.

---