Reshma Mary

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A long wail, like a siren, escaped her throat. A sound she didn’t even know she could make. It rocketed through her; and then she did it again and again, pounding on the steering wheel. She screamed for herself, for Stella, in rage at the man who was her father, his pretty, clueless daughter—her sister?—the normal life she’d never had.
Confessions on the 7:45
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