As a child, I’d loved this forest; maybe because it was where I went to get away from the cottage, and the dark, brooding pressure of my Grandfather’s presence. But something had changed. The woods no longer seemed like a place of reprieve. I felt that I was being… not watched, per se, but noticed, and that it wasn’t a friendly kind of noticing.
--The Wrong Station contains explicit content and mature themes. Discretion is advised. Episode-specific warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com
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