confused. The two nuns came at us, taking me first by the wrist and grabbing one of the girls to pull us both into the cloakroom. They left the other girl outside. They made me and the other girl turn and raise our dresses up, which showed our underwear. And they began to hit us with sticks. This felt shameful, the trauma more twisted than I’d previously had at Holy Rosary. The nuns, starting with Sister Fidelis, had failed. They couldn’t break my spirit. When it was close, when even my mother weighed it down with her good intentions, something would show me to hold on: Johnny would try
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