fourteen

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i shuffled over to the stairs, my eyes trained on the floor. this was exactly what i was dreading. i trudged up the stairs softly in my now sock-clad feet (i had taken off my shoes at the door). before i could go any further than the top step, i stopped myself.

what was i doing?

he wasn't going to forgive me.

he'll never love me.

but my feet had already taken me to his door. my fingers traced over the door's ornamentation.

then it opened.

"dani?"

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