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This is a true story. My story. The one I

  • This is a true story. My story. The one I thought I'd never tell.

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  • To anyone. Except that dude with the weasel. I might have told him. Or his weasel. That night is still a bit blurry in my head. Anyway, my story. Yes.The one I'd never tell. It all

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  • started in the Summer of...uhh...in the Summer of...or was it the Winter? Ah! It was the Spring! I remember because I had a spring in my step! Yes! So it was Fall, and I remem

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  • ber how the snowdrops nodded their silly little heads above the parched sunbaked lawn that still spring morning. I opened the last window on my advent calendar and munched the choc

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  • -olate square- milk chocolate, my favorite. I took a sip of my coffee, the lazy steam wafting up from my "World's Best Mom" mug to fog my glasses. I loved my easy sunday mornings.

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  • Suddenly, the phone rang. The police were on the other line. They said they had my son down at the office. Looks like my lazy Sunday morning just turned into a Mother's nightmare.

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  • I got into the car and drove to the station. Being the multi-tasker I am, I managed to remind myself to drive with both hands on the wheel, all the while hoping for my hand to slip

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  • I needed the sweet relief of death. it was so close, and I wanted it so badly. I felt I had all the power to make others sad, and filled with regret. I needed death, they hurt me

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  • now I would do the hurting. But my dying didn't stop my hurting & their's only added to mine until I hated them for making me do that to them then I'd realize the vicious cycle I'd

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  • Had begun back in 1974AD. It was now 2274AD and someone put a hefty price on my head if I died. Thus someone made millions off my untimely death and the money was worthless

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