I felt Gabe’s fist collide with my face, and I struggled to get away, though I could do nothing about it. Gabe glugged down the last of his bier and smiled at my bloody nose and bruised…well, everything. “Please stop.” I begged, but Gabe only hit me again in response to my plea. I shuddered backward; I wanted to do something, anything, but if u were eight years old too and were trying to get away from a jerk that was three times your size, u had no choice.
My mother would have stopped this if she could, but this always took place when she was at work and couldn’t stop it. Gabe...
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