Paranoia was my own imagination gone mad leaving me each day for dead only to revive me the next with yet another heart pumping tale of terror. He was the boy who cried wolf but unlike the fable I believed all his portents of danger each and every time. As I look back on those times it never occurred to me how I could escape my Tower of London torture. Although it lay there always within arms reach. I just needed to put down the drink. Paranoia was my only friend back then and boy I don’t miss him.
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