![]() Being hit on the head in the past has taught me to never give them my back.īeing stabbed in the ribs has taught me that, too. I keep walking like that, not wanting to give her my back. To steal her only support and the only person she had by no fault of her own. That’s what it looks like to steal a little girl’s innocence when she’s just ten. She glares up at me, her gaze full of tears and her expression haunted, distraught. All I care about is the small box between my fingers. I stumble to my feet, ignoring the dirt on my clothes. ![]() My palms burn and blood seeps from the skin, but it doesn’t matter. I fall backwards, my hands and hip taking the sting. I try to clutch her shoulder, pull her up - something to offer a small amount of comfort - but she shoves me away. When Sarah seems spent, she slumps to the ground, bawling, sobbing, and falling apart. My physical pain is nothing compared to what she and the others have been through. But I stay in place as she takes out her anger and bitterness on me. ![]() Not that it will make them stop, but it’s the only thing I know to say to them. ![]() ![]() I’m s-so sorry.” A sob tears out of my throat as I chant the words over and over again. “Your apology can’t give me back what I lost.” Slap. If I stay still, if I let them beat me, they’ll eventually get it out of their system and leave me alone. Give me my mother back! Give me my life back!” She slaps me across the face so hard, I reel from the shock of it. She’s not confused, crying, or begging me to bring back her mother. ![]()
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