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I guess it's strange that I thought of my mother as I lay on the cold, filthy bathroom floor with my dress up around my neck and my underwear torn away and three pairs of strong hands holding me down as I struggled, but I did.

Through the terror and the pain, the only coherent thought in my mind was the wishing I had remembered what she told me.

Story by:

Ellis Bell

submitted at 11:12am

17 March 2009