I used to get so excited when the school bell rang on Friday afternoons. It meant two days of freedom: playing tag with my friends, watching Saturday morning cartoons, going with mom to the store . . .
Now I don’t know where my mom is; it’s dark and cold in this
place. All I feel is gross men’s hands doing horrible things to me, torturing
me. I feel so dirty. I want to die but I keep on living in this never-ending
hellish nightmare.
Why won’t my mom come get me? Where is my daddy? The evil man
keeps hitting me with the belt. He says I’m a bad girl.
“Please somebody help me!” My brain keeps screaming over and
over and over again.
Nobody comes.
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