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1878- Entry 1

Lucille has taken playing at love farther than I am sure it ought go, but what can I say in protest? She has reminded me of the many times she paid the price for my misdeeds and still continues to. I am to give her something in return for the bruises on her skin, some tenderness in exchange for the brutality. I am eleven. She is thirteen, her body becoming more womanly, and she has needs she wants met that I do not. But still, I will submit to her will. She has always loved me.

And she has been the only person who has not thought I was best off dead. I am eternally grateful, eternally hers, even if this feels so terribly wrong.


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