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Bloodstains On My Hands
I laid on the blanket writing, just sprawling words across the page. I wasn’t even registering what I was writing. My thoughts were elsewhere. In my mind, I was back there at the house, the night my life became a living hell. I couldn‘t see the open field all around me, couldn‘t hear the horse grazing just a few yards away, couldn‘t feel the soft September breeze brushing my hair. All I could see was darkness, all I could hear was his voice screaming my name.
Suddenly I was aware of where I was again, what I was doing. I was back in the present, away from my memories of the night my life became a living hell. I looked down at my journal and read what was written there.
"On July 23,2009 I watched my father die because of a choice I made."
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