Turning, I approach her, my gut roiling violently. Cataloguing all of the cuts and purpling skin. No. No. Who could do this to her? Who could lay a finger on her in anything but reverence? Get her out of here. Rasping her name, I reach down to pick up her, but she flinches and scoots back, bringing her body up against the wall. “Don’t touch me, bully.” Those words rip the soul clean out of my body. My hands drop limply to my sides and two years come rushing back, hitting me in the chest like line drives. Every word, every action. Everything I did to make her life harder when this? This is what
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