The first time it happened was when he confessed to her. A naive little girl she was, she believed it was love . . . Nothing but sweet romance. It was the first time he had hit her. A mere slap to her cheek but it slap was still a slap. It was painf...
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She ate that night, her stomach was barely full but that was what she had. The headache she had stopped but her stomach felt weird.
She ignored it and rested her head on her bag she had with her and hugged herself trying to warm herself by curling in a ball. She closed her tired eyes.
She thought about her parents, six years ago when they took her out for ice cream one night. It was a cool night, her mom held her in her lap as she told her about how she met her husband—her father. While he went to purchase their favorite, cookies and cream for her mom, pistachio for her father and strawberry chocolate chip for herself.
She remembered when he came over to them with a wide grin on his lips, she remembered when he gave her mom her ice cream then kissed his lips, the deep blush that ignited his cheeks, how he sat next to them as he gave his daughter her ice cream and wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her head and hers and telling them how much he loved them.
Too bad it was only a sweet dream.
She blamed herself. If only she visited them sooner, if only she been there, if only she told them everything. If only. If only . . .
If only she died with them.
Wet and heavy tears ran down her cheeks.
If only.
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