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not an address, nothing.”
“I won’t,” Kyle said. Then, quietly: “Is this what it felt like for you? All the time?”
“Yes,” I said. “Every month.”
Kyle went quiet. “I didn’t know.”
“I know,” I said. And for once, I meant it without bitterness.
Denise filed the necessary reports. A follow-up visit from an officer to my parents’ address produced no confession continue reading …
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