“How can you stand it?” he asked, his voice like sandpaper. “How can you stand to be touched after what they did?” The breath I was holding burned in my lungs before I finally whispered, “Not all touches hurt.”
“How can you stand it?” he asked, his voice like sandpaper. “How can you stand to be touched after what they did?” The breath I was holding burned in my lungs before I finally whispered, “Not all touches hurt.”
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