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s I tumbled down the stairs. My mother-in-law, Martha,
ed in your place, Sarah. N
impact that shattered my bones.
y daughter, Lily, her tiny body limp in my arms.
other. He always did. My death would
ding light. I shot u
My hands were whole. N
th. The da
d to be a dream. But the room was r
chance. Not for forgiveness. Not for
t the bottom of those stairs. The woman wh
my peanut-allergic daughter a "special" peanut cookie. The same Mart
hey didn' t care. The result
this
illed the air. I burst into the kitchen,
te from her hand, shat
okies," I told Lily, holding her close
nyone. It builds up tolerance." The same words she'd used
't that wo
," I said, cold and clear. "Your 'wi
ow. The game had changed.
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