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but not to save me.
To warn me not to fight back.
Part 2
My skull hit the drywall hard enough to crack the plaster. For one terrifying second, the whole kitchen tilted sideways, and I saw Evan’s face clearly.
He was smiling.
Not big. Not obvious. Just enough.
Dad tightened his grip. “You selfish little parasite.”
I clawed at his wrist, but chemotherapy had continue reading …
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