I don't understand why she failed to hold herself back executing that piercing scream that shattered the fibers in the wood, along with my ear drums and the plastic that ran across my eyes so I could see.
Perhaps I too must bear responsibility for the manner in which she behaved. The environment I made her with when she was a child. I didn't mean for family to be terror, or to leave her afraid and upset.
I broke a table in fear, and had her life affected; the poor child.
She was a sad one. She didn't mean to break the tables.
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