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chest, a feeling that this wasn’t over.
And I was right.
The next morning, just as I stepped out of the bathroom, Marissa called out from the living room.
“Joanna, someone’s banging on the door.”
I rushed out, hair still wet, and saw her tense face.
“Who is it?”
“Not sure, but he’s pounding hard.”
I crept to the peephole.
My heart dropped.
It was my father.continue reading …
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