In the morning, I prayed.
I prayed again at lunch, and as time waned, over and over, the same prayer: Don't let this day - the last day - end. In my classmates' minds, they wanted the end. They wanted freedom from school and long days. Over and over, they prayed against me: Lord, make this day - the last day - end. In a ten year olds world, Summer should mean certain things. Summer should mean happy, homework free dreams. Over and over Summer should insist: Don't let this day - my last day - end. In my house, I hid in my room. I hid from the mother who beat me, the father who ignored me. Over and over I prayed: Lord, let this day - the first day - end.
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