29 - Escape From Incel Island, Part 3: The Woke Misogynists of Incel Island (Patreon)

The adrenaline gave out far sooner than I’d hoped. Or maybe it was just my foot. Either way, I was flat on my face, this time without the grace or the wherewithal to have caught myself. I was delirious.

“Did you know,” I asked, lying prone, dirt in my mouth, “that the ground smells like blood?”

“It’s your blood, isn’t it?” Dr. Morrison asked.

“And clover,” I said. “I think I fell in some clover.”