Chapter 36: Release

A/N: Happy John Wick Day everyone! I just want everyone to know that I went to see Chapter 4 last night and I'm a changed woman! Lol. Just know that my writing pen is about to shift into maximum overdrive. Just to avoid any confusion, this chapter takes place over the course of several days. I don't think there's any need to drag out the reader processing her trauma and managing her depression for longer than a single chapter. I know reading about a sensitive topic like this can be triggering for some readers so I tried not to put too much emphasis on it other than to show how affected the reader was by what happened to her.

Sidenote: I feel like I have to say this because some people have been wildin in my comments and reviews lately when it comes to certain topics. Keep in mind that this is a work of fiction, so please treat it as such and try not to overanalyze it. This chapter includes the heavy theme of trauma and how it's processed and handled by the characters. The way it's handled in this chapter is of my own conceptualization and likely does not reflect how it would be handled in real life. Thank you.


Ultimately, it was the mild tightening in your abdomen that woke you up. The stomach spasms were more frequent as of late and you had no way of guessing when they'd start. As a direct result of this, you've become accustomed to feeling uncomfortable. Usually, it meant one of two things - the first being that you were hungry and the other being a need to make a trip to the bathroom. Whatever the case, you stood firm that it may have stemmed from the injury on your hip. While the pain in your hip had gradually begun to fade over time, the ache in your chest still remained and you're fully aware of why that is.

Due to the stress, you weren't sure if you were getting too much sleep or not getting enough. No matter how much sleep you get, you still wake up feeling tired. Truthfully, you never wanted to leave the bed but when the nightmares became too much that was the only option left.

How does a person spend most of your time sleeping and somehow still wake up fully exhausted?

Along with the rare torture that was sleeplessness and acute exhaustion, you'd developed a distorted perception of time. When you awoke, you usually couldn't tell if it would be early morning or late at night. The days seemed to blur together and you're actively not keeping track of time anyway.

Everything that wasn't evidence was taken to your parents house or placed into storage. The rest was swiftly moved into your lover's home. In all sincerity, moving in with the Quasi-mute hitman under such fortuitous circumstances seemed almost worrisome. Unlike you, John appeared to take it all in stride, from arranging the entire move to making sure all your needs were met in between. By all accounts, you and John now live together. Even with you spending most of your time at his place anyway, it still made for quite the change for you.

The police had kept you updated about any new developments concerning the situation with the landlord. Apparently, he had installed the camera in your apartment about a month and a half before and was sneaking into the place with his key. There was only limited footage since you'd barely been coming there. A true blessing in disguise. Along with the violent physical assault, it was enough to pursue charges against him. Apparently, he'd been constantly asking them about you and wanted to know how you were doing. Honestly, it made you sick to your stomach to hear. That after he attempted to literally murder you, he would express genuine concern about your well-being.

Emotional dysregulation had you living in a perpetual state of distress and unrest with various stages of anger, despair, numbness, and guilt.

The mental and emotional strain you were experiencing had affected nearly every aspect of your life. Despite your parents and friends regularly checking on you, you'd expressly stated that you didn't want to be crowded and that you simply needed some space. Although they were there for you and understood your reasoning, you mostly leaned on John for support. You needed space to think - to breathe.

Given the seriousness of the situation and how it affected your life, your work, professors and internship had been notified of the situation and you were given extended leave until you were ready to come back at your own discretion. Ms. Donna understood completely and immediately told you to 'take all of the time you needed.'

Although you have the full support of most of the people in your life - it just seemed so impossible to recover. As a person who's been through a highly stressful series of events, your sense of security had been completely shattered. It's all very disheartening.

Depression was a daily presence, frequently washing over you in cold waves, leaving you confined by invisible chains of your subconscious. The self-blame and guilt was probably the hardest to deal with. An immeasurable amount of guilt clung heavily to you for having to fully rely on your significant other to feel safe. Somehow it felt worse than that, it felt so wrong for you to constantly put him in the kind of position that required him to save you. At first, you didn't consider it a problem before, him being there to save you from immediate danger but now…

As a matter of fact, you believe it was John's silent insistence that was the primary driving force for you not being relegated to the bed at all times.

As of now, you're caught in the aftermath that had you falling deep into an exhausting cycle of crying, sleeping, and experiencing some of the worst nightmares you could ever recall having.

It was rather evident that your life had been severely interrupted by what happened and was at a complete standstill. You don't know how to describe it - it was as if you were far too numb and disconnected from the world around passing day was more dreary and repetitive than the last and simply eating breakfast felt like a massive effort. Frankly, you just wanted everything to go back to normal but just couldn't seem to get past it.

So much of your time was spent wrestling with your thoughts and residing in aching solitude. Not to mention how the recurring flashbacks were eating you alive. The events replayed in your mind constantly to the point where you almost had no desire to stay awake for long periods of time. The arresting fear, the feel of heavy hands gripping your neck, the terrifying feeling of your life slipping away. The flashbacks, thoughts, and emotions associated with everything were enough to bring you to your knees.

Over a matter of days, you'd experienced several nightmares. The images that frequently appeared in your subconscious were downright terrifying - something straight out of a macabre horror picture. There were many nights you awoke in a panic nearly screaming. Not even counting the time when your eyes flew open and you found yourself staging into John's tranquil profile.

Regardless of convincing yourself that you had no tears left to cry, you still found yourself reaching deep into the well to somehow produce more. At this point, you didn't know where all the tears were coming from. Aside from that, all you could really do was curl into bed, mope and cry. You've been feeling all the emotions more intensely than normal. The range of feelings pretty much come and go as they please and you never thought that being hindered by intense emotions that refused to subside could be an effective form of torture. One moment, you'd think you were fine and then in the next, you'd be falling apart. All the while, your mind was still trying to make sense of what happened.

During one particularly bad night where you were near inconsolable with dejection, he held you in his arms and leaned until his lips were close to your ear. "When you're ready to speak of it…I will listen." He was lowly assured.

Not once did he pressure you to speak about the incident, presumably deciding that you would open up when you were ready. He did not coddle or pacify you. That wasn't what you wanted. He gave you enough space to process all that had transpired on your own.

In a difficult time like this, most people would sacrifice their basic needs. That would not be the case for you. John dedicated a substantial amount of time towards helping you work through your trauma. He was very understanding of how hard this was for you to navigate through and he didn't even depart for an assignment as expected.

John remained patient and attentive the entire time and he personally took it upon himself to make sure you ate and maintained all responsibilities accordingly. He did not permit you to isolate yourself in the now shared bedroom for extended periods of time, using valid reasons to keep you from burying yourself under the covers. You were to come out and eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the kitchen while he watched you consume every one of your meals with unrelenting and uncompromising tenacity. Ever vigilant and present even as you bathed and maintained your hygiene. In no way, shape, or form were you to deviate from the seemingly mundane activities that made up your normal routine.

With John at your side, there wasn't much time you got to spend alone. Not in one instance did you think to push him away, in truth, you craved his presence more than anything. Or at least, you felt like you weren't. You might attempt to isolate yourself from the world but you couldn't bring yourself to pull away from him under any circumstances.

In addition to that you have no energy or motivation to do much of anything. Meanwhile laying down triggers guilt for not making the best of your time. But sadly, it still isn't enough to make you want to get up. At most, it seemed to reinforce the idea that you were unknowingly building a life revolving around despair and it was beginning to take a life of its own. After a while your brain would begin to adapt to it and see it as normal. You don't want that.

Nevertheless, you're tired of being trapped in the grueling cycle of being hurt and assaulted.

Sweetface was resting at the end of the bed, undoubtedly his favorite place to sleep in the house. It wasn't strange for you to wake up and the pup was sleeping at the foot of the bed. It would be more strange if he wasn't there.

You couldn't help but notice that John's side of the bed was empty. It's rare for you to wake up and he wasn't in bed with you.

You feel a headache start to come on as you weakly try to sit up.

Operating in a sort of lethargic trance, you descended the stairs carefully in measured steps. You were met with the quietness and stillness of the large house. You passed by a mirror hanging on the wall but made a genuine effort not to look into it. Frankly, you didn't want to see your appearance.

The only light you saw was emanating from the luminous moonlight seeping into the house enough for you to see where you were going.

But as you pass through the hallway, there's a subtle tinge of light coming from under the basement door. Strangely, you felt lulled by it.

The stone steps were cold against your feet, as you came down them as quietly as you could manage.

John was seated at the desk of his own personal workshop where an iron press and cup of paint brushes sat atop of. His arsenal of tools and equipment are neatly situated just off to the side ready to be used at his convenience.

A part of you worried about potentially intruding on what could be private time for him while the other part of you wanted so desperately to see and be near him that you couldn't help yourself.

He was currently working on a worn brown leather book, the title of which was barely legible but could vaguely be made out if close enough. "Aesop's Fables." The title read. It wasn't unlike the Russian folktale books you'd gifted him for Christmas in fact, the book looked very much like them.

"How long have you been awake?" He calmly addressed you.

You're not surprised. He didn't have to turn and see you to know you were there.

"Not long. Can I join you?"

"Sure."

You pulled up a chair and sat beside him as he quietly worked. For a time, the lengthy silence stretched between you both and you were content to simply watch him as he focused on the task at hand. Every step seemed integral and you've only seen him do this one other time.

Quietly subdued, you sat watched with subtle intrigue as your better half took apart an old leather book and meticulously cleaned it of any dirt and debris. After being thoroughly checked that the block of pages was lined up perfectly then set aside. Following that, a cloth was attached to the spine of the book. The process was a very tedious but intricate one.

With the vast collection of gilded books lining the shelves, you imagined that he'd been indulging in this hobby for some time. A hobby like this was undoubtedly time consuming but ultimately worth it in the end. Besides, your lover had the patience of a seasoned monk and was seemingly skilled in his craft.

Having paid enough attention you can gauge how intricate this type of work was and how meticulous one must be to ensure that no mistakes are made. Fittingly, it suited him just fine.

Where did he learn to do all this you wondered.

"It looks nice. You're really good."

"Thank you."

"How did you get into this? Fixing books I mean…"

"Combination of a love of reading and fixing."

You can understand that - John is a fixer, he fixes things.

"Would you like to talk about it now?"

The question caught you entirely off guard. A look of confusion settled along your delicate brow and only seconds later did you understand what he meant. Indecisive and unsure, you lowered your gaze to the smooth edge of the desk and your hands started twisting in your clothing. Lately you hadn't been able to stop fidgeting, possibly to a subconscious attempt to palliate your nerves.

Were you ready to talk about it? That was the real question that needed answering. The truth of the matter was you didn't really know. You were so trapped within the grip of misery, you hadn't actually been able to confide in anyone about the situation and how you felt, not even John.

In the midst of your thinking, a warm hand came up to press against your chest where your ever-beating heart was thrumming. "There's a heaviness lingering here…release it."

Mentally, you went over every reason why you should or shouldn't disclose your innermost thoughts with him and the former eventually won out. What was the harm in confiding in the man when he'd been an anchor for you the entire time?

You started by shrugging and trying to force a smile to keep from crying. "I don't know how to start. It doesn't even feel like I'm alive anymore." You answered with a quiet breath. "I've been trying to get better but I just can't let go…it's all I think about every second of every day."

He answered this by saying, "You can't handle it all at once. Get to the root of why you feel the way you feel and resolve the smaller issues before handling the large ones."

The reserved male waited patiently as you struggled to find your voice to continue.

"I've never felt like that before…I've never felt like I was actually going to die." You said, your voice shaking.

Taking your hand in his, he gently rubbed a thumb along the skin in a soothing gesture. You unconsciously flinched but instantly disregarded the bodily reaction.

"You know what the messed up part is…I can't help but feel like it's my fault somehow. Almost like I let it happen." You looked at him, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"This is life. There will always be things beyond our control whether we can anticipate it or not. That is the inevitability of life. Relinquish the belief that you are responsible for the attack. Accept that there's nothing you could've done to prevent such an attack on your person." He explained.

"From the moment he made up his mind to harm you, it was beyond your control."

Listening to his words, you understand what trying to convey, that you shouldn't hold yourself responsible for what happened. None of it was your fault.

"I just feel like something's wrong with me. Every time I look up I'm in a deeper mess than before and it's only started to get to me. Why now of all the other times?"

"There's nothing wrong with you." He spoke softly.

"Then why…why do I feel so guilty?" You swallowed, trying to ease the lump beginning to form in your throat. You felt as though you bore the weight of everything that had happened entirely alone.

"I just feel so guilty all the time. I feel guilty because you always end up having to step in. You're always there to save from whatever mess I get myself into. It's not fair...you shouldn't have to constantly do that because of me."

"What is there to feel guilty about? You and I have pledged a devotion to one another. It is my responsibility to ensure your safety just as much as it is for you to do the same for myself. It does not not matter how it's done, only that it's done. I will protect you until my last day."

"No John, that's not…"

The issue… You wanted to say but it never came forward.

The reassuring glance he provided afterwards served as an adequate response. He knew how you felt, after all he'd been a witness to your state of turmoil.

"He was prepared to kill you by any means necessary. Do you think he would have granted you the same mercy?" He inquired as he regarded you with a blank stare.

The truth lay between the two of you both bare and ugly, causing you to go unnaturally silent.

"Why did you prevent his death?"

Averting your gaze, you turned away from him, shaking your head. "You don't understand…"

"I understand that had it not been for your interference, he wouldn't still be breathing."

You turned on him. "He was a regular citizen, you can't-"

The man answered with monotonous indifference. "I can."

Aside from the anger you knew he felt, you weren't given much insight into how the entire ordeal had affected him.

"You're not listening to me…can't you understand that-"

He cut you off in the calmest, baritone in response. "Do you know how many I've already killed for you?"

The softly posed question caused you to freeze, whatever you were going to say never got past your lips.

"Among those people, there hasn't been a single one that I regret killing. In fact, I would do it again without hesitation. So I ask again…why?"

While the line of questioning already put you in a tough position, it didn't feel fair to him to provide a half truth as an answer. You can't just tell him that he didn't understand because he did. You still had your life because of him, he deserved the truth and nothing but.

"John please." You implored. "I didn't want to cause anymore problems. I was just trying to keep you from making a life-altering decision."

"You are my life. Why would I sit idle and allow someone to take you from it? To take you from me?"

The beating muscle in your chest momentarily paused but it ultimately resumed once more. You didn't know what you were expecting him to say but it wasn't that. The heartfelt admission nearly caused your heart to stop entirely.

"It doesn't matter the reason - any perceived threat on your life will be eradicated. If it means death for one or a hundred then so be it."

"You constantly worry about becoming a burden to me." He continued. "There's no burden to speak of. It will never be a burden for me to kill for the one who matters the most. We are bound as one, allow me to protect you without shame or guilt."

"John…"

"You wanted him to live, so I honored your request. That is the only reason why he still breathes." His voice turned colder and more lethal than before. "However, in the future, should another incident arise - such mercy will not be permitted. Do you understand?"

He can't afford to make a habit of sparing those who do harm to you. He's never been so generous in those aspects. You can't argue with his reasoning.

You lowered your gaze to your lap, unable to argue with his reasoning. "Yes…"

John's intent gaze locked onto you. "Then why do you tremble when I reach out to touch you?"

"I don't know…" You quietly replied.

"Do you know why you shake when I touch you? It is because his actions have only instilled fear deep within you. It's because your body is stuck in a cycle of perpetual fear and distress."

Truthfully, you didn't know what to say in regards to that.

"Would you like me to nullify that?"

The question threw you for several loops and you tilted your head out of bewilderment. "How?"

John inclined his head in a single motion before standing from the chair. "Very well."

You watched slightly confused as you watched him place the book he'd been working on carefully on the bookshelf. You started to question his actions but ultimately quieted when the man moved to stand directly over you, situating himself between your open thighs.

The man then slipped his palms under your armpits before picking you up and placing you atop the hard surface of the desk. The action left you entirely puzzled and you wondered why the change in equilibrium.

"What are you doing?" You softly enquired.

"Do you trust me?" He asked in his deep, cultured voice.

"Of course I do."

In a completely unexpected move, one of John's large hands came up to clamp around your neck. You froze at once.

Unable to stop yourself, you brought up both hands to hold his wrist. He didn't tighten his grip, he merely rested his hand there, the neck was a sensitive area after all.

John said nothing, not even explaining his actions just calmly gauging your shocked reaction.

Having someone's hand around your neck was a heavily vulnerable position for one to be in and your mind was nearly catapulted back to the night of the attack. Immediately you felt a tremor creep into your limbs before it slowly started to lessen into nothing.

"Are you still afraid?"

Your mouth parted to question him but no words came out so you merely nodded a response.

"Here with me…you have nothing to fear." He said as he rubbed his thumb gently along the pulse in your neck.

You let the softness of his words wash over you and your shoulders slowly began to relax.

"Do you believe I would hurt you?"

"Never." Your eyes read. "I just want to forget it. Please make me forget…"

He seemed to accept the desperate unspoken plea with his own wordless answer.

For something so important, it was crucial to ensure that you were comfortable with what was about to take place. Before proceeding further he wanted your full consent. If there was a point of no return, then this was probably it.

"Remember that you have all the control here. This is happening because you will it."

Quite simply, it was then you realized what was happening - he was trying to override the experience of what had been done to you. He was attempting to coax your body to let go of any tension and stress.

Settling over you, John's hand slipped into your waistband, finding the most sensitive part on your body and giving it immediate attention. The man's touch was gentle to the point of it being almost experimental and he took great care to ease you into the process, waiting to see how you'd respond.

One would think he'd never ever touched you there before.

"How do you feel?"

"I feel…okay." You answered.

"Just okay?"

"I don't know anymore." You breathed out.

The first thing you did was allow yourself to truly register the sensation. His fingers brought you to life, reawakening parts of your body that you didn't know had been dormant. The pulsing soon spread down your spine, it started with a warm glow then slowly ignited like a raging fire as a result. On account of this, your breathing suddenly became much heavier. He continued rubbing the sensitive nub to attention and wetness began accumulating rather quickly.

"Focus on me. Nothing else. Focus on what I do."

Honestly, you didn't know how to feel, listening to him talk you through his own variation of rehabilitation.

He continued gently rubbing your clit in an up and down motion, spreading the natural wetness there. The closest he'd gotten to actually entering you was lightly pressing a finger into your vagina opening whilst moving his hand in a circular motion over your slit. The most notable aspect was that he did not penetrate, he simply massaged the tender flesh in a skilled fashion.

In the middle of him lazily stroking the damp flesh he only applied just the slightest pressure to your neck that made you the slightest bit lightheaded.

Your lover used a clever combination of clitoral and vaginal stimulation that sent your body straight into delightful chaos. Igniting an explosive feeling that left you breathless. He adjusted his fingers, massaging the upper left quadrant of your clit, maintaining a soft pressure while he stroked the slit from top to bottom. Direct stimulation in that spot proved fruitful and moisture was soon leaking out of you and over his hand like water but you couldn't muster up any embarrassment because of it.

Looking into his rapt gaze, it was evident that he was paying close attention to your bodily responses. While gazing down into your withering visage, his lips hovered just inches above yours but for some reason unknown to you he chose not to kiss you.

The languorous rubbing of heated flesh soon drew out an orgasm the likes of which temporarily blinded you. With a knowing glint in his eyes, he siphoned all the tension out of your body. The built up was both slow and fast and you quickly surrendered to the elements.

The reduced oxygen and ringing of your ears made it almost feel like an out of body experience.

You screamed out your release, letting all the internal tension drain from your body. Your entire frame shook uncontrollably, toes curling painfully as an intensely pleasant throbbing sensation spread throughout your body. A sensation which can only be described as complete euphoria.

Muscles tensing right before the incoming explosion. Restricting the flow of oxygen.

Subsequently, your mind went numb and the dark fog in your mind had been momentarily lifted. You realized that you're zoned out but in a completely different way - finally allowing your taxed mind a reprieve from anxiety and unrest for the first time in two and a half weeks. It felt like forever since you'd been able to have a clear mind to think as you pleased and not be clouded by anguished memories. Even though you could barely think as it was.

He'd given you one of the most intense orgasms you'd ever experienced and the breath control added an incredibly intense factor to the ministrations.

You fell against him bonelessly, way too tired to move. You'd been tightly wound for so long, that your muscles had begged for any sort of reprieve. Your legs are weak to the point where you likely wouldn't be able to hold your own weight up.

Unable to pick your head up from his chest, you spoke softly into it, hoping he could hear. "I'm sorry about your desk."

Obviously, you were referring to the mess you'd made of it.

"Don't worry about it. Do you feel better now?" He asked.

"Yes I do." You blinked. "John?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."


John was not so surprised when your body finally drooped against him and you slid into the grip of sleep once more. He took great care when cleaning the spot between your legs and putting you back to bed. You managed to sleep through it all without being disturbed and it served as an indicator of just how drained you were.

Even now, he silently took in the relaxed features of your face - from the delicate planes of your brow to the curved cupid's bow of your slightly parted lips as you lay in bed. For once, you seemed to sleep peacefully without any obtrusive night terrors and he was pleased.

The traumatic experience seemed to have affected you more deeply than originally thought. Contrary to your normal behavior, you slept through the days, your enthusiasm in food had all but left, and you spoke less and cried more. Unable to muster so much as a smile even if encouraged. It worried him more than he was willing to admit but he could see the implicit reason of why that was.

It had been a laborious process for them both in regards to the circumstances in question. It had taken him an abundance of patience, steadfastness, and care to pull you from the depths of disconsolateness. Things of this nature take time to overcome - it won't just go away on its own and while some can overcome things more quickly than others, in your case, you required additional effort. Dealing with a fragile mental and emotional state was no easy thing.

An individual can only choose to make an effort to get better and improve. And so far, you've only been able to acknowledge that you haven't been doing the exact opposite. So far, you've only been walling in nothing but debilitating feelings. Frankly, it was to be expected. Traumatic experiences can leave a devastating stain on a person's mind - a stain unable to be wiped away.

After some time, it began to occur to him that you needed another kind of assistance, a sort of rehabilitation if one could accurately classify it as that. To some extent, it worked as a moderate therapy for those who have experienced a kind of trauma and wanted to work towards overcoming it. He'd thought about it for quite some time before he considered utilizing it on you. While he was not that well versed in it and thought it served as a rather draconian method, the hitman was told it could be quite efficient if done properly. The therapy he was referring to was that of memory reconsolidation. From his understanding, the process works by placing the distressed individual in a similar traumatic situation and then working to reprogram the brain away from stress. Therefore training the brain to associate the sensation with feelings of pleasure instead of fear. Due to the fear, pain, and pleasure sharing a brain circuit, the entire process is almost purely psychological.

Admittedly, there existed some skepticism on whether or not it would work but he took the plunge anyway and was not disappointed by the results. In fact, you took to it quite well. Until now, you hadn't understood how close the link between trauma, emotions, and sex.

He remained very careful about the treatment of your neck for obvious reasons. It appeared to be the most triggering in regards to your experience as a whole. He waited until you were able to calm yourself before he proceeded as it was a very important aspect in the procedure. He'd listened to your whimpers and breathless cries from the sexual pleasure he provided and it nearly stirred him more action than he'd planned. Beforehand, John had already made the decision not to do more than what was required. He knew that if his lips made any contact with yours, he may wind up slipping inside of you against his better judgment. He only meant to ease your mental and emotional distress and nothing further. It was not the time or place to indulge in his own sexual desires. He planned to see to your needs and take it no further.

For most of his life, he's made a habit of communicating his thoughts explicitly through action. What he'd done to the other man should've signified exactly what he felt at that point in time. The subsequent anger superseded everything else.

It was quite the jarring sight to walk in on another man with his hands wrapped around your neck attempting to strangle the life from you. Usually, he'd be able to exercise some level of control when it came to his rage but seeing that struck a chord within him. Nothing else seemed to matter after that. He just wanted the other man to die - he personally wanted to see life leave his eyes as he crushed his own larynx.

John had never wanted a person to die so badly as he did in that moment and he's killed plenty in his lifetime.

Remaining fully cognizant of Winston's words that were constantly lingering in the back of his mind and the intrusive matter in which he obtained information, there were quite a bit of things he needed to take into consideration. The looming threat of consequences for the warehouse attack along with the added fear of your existence being discovered had him greatly concerned and exercising caution whenever necessary. With you moving into the house, it provided an extra layer of cover and protection from the outside threats but seen and unseen. While John did not want to restrict your freedom again, if circumstances brought it to that point then he may just have to. He would take no chances with your livelihood.

He would not give into his desires until you were of sound mind and your emotions were not raw. As far as his judgment went, you were still in a highly vulnerable state.

For the most part, you seemed to want to reestablish a sense of normalcy back into your life and he would be there to provide you any you needed to do so.

He gently caressed the side of your slumbering face. "Spokoynoy nochi."


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