THE SCARS OF THE PAST

META**'**S POV (Age 19):

My tongue swam in hot blood. Coppery. Thick. My jaw throbbed, a steady, dull ache.

"I didn't take her money," I tried to tell them. The words felt like gravel scraping my throat. "Someone put it in my bag."

It didn't matter. They weren't listen...

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