Two Years and Counting

Two Years and Counting

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It has been two years since I set foot in this horrible place. I spent two long years waiting for the day for that I can be able to look at this place and not break down. Now after those two years I have come back stronger and unrecognizable. The bullies that used to torture me now are looking to me like competition or a new chick to sleep with. My old friends look at me and see nothing but a new student. My parents study me for signs of a relapse. And I watch them all looking for a good time to start my pay back. Who knows maybe this time I will have a have a chance to make an impact for those that follow.
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Everyone always wants to know. They're always staring, moving out of my way as I walk down the hall with my books in my hands. They whisper, they point with sympathetic eyes. They want to know my side of the story. How he did it, how he touched me, what it felt like, what was going through my head the whole time. They all just want answers. They want to know. But they shouldn't. I lived through every nightmare you could have ever had as a kid. You woke up crying about it, I probably went through it. Two years. Two years I was gone. Taken away.

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