She was beautiful. Innocent. Her smile would light the darkest room as many young children could. The tables turn on every child one day, as it would seem. Their innocence gets stolen, or they choose to give it away. As heartbreaking as it sounds, it's the life we live in.
Her name was Alicia. Her innocence was taken by someone who was supposed to protect her from the evils of the world. If only it stopped there. Funnily enough, this isn't her story. It's mine. The story begins before my existence. Before she held me for the first time. Before she decided motherhood wasn't apart of her future. It could be sympathy that I'm trying to feel for her, as many loved ones say to me. I see it as a craving for understanding for the one question, "Why give me the same past that also killed her spirit?" Almost like a cold-case investigation with only my memories and known stories to fall back on. Perhaps it's unhealthy. Or perhaps, this is the first time I'll ever have the closure I need to move on. Either way, this is our story.
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