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Hold My Hand

"I'm scared."

"I know, sweetie."

"I want Mom." (Quiet sniffles.)

"So do I, baby, so do I."

"Why do we have to go?"

"It's not safe here anymore. We're going to see Aunt Molly, do you remember Aunt Molly?"

"She smelled like brussel sprouts, but she was okay." (Surprised, stifled laugh.)

"Yes, that's right. She's going to take care of us."

(Creaking steps.)

"Is that him? Is he coming?" (Muffled whimpers, rustling cloth.)

"No, no, little girl, it's just the wind. Listen to me, it's just the wind. We have to go now, and we have to be really, really quiet. Can you do that for me? We have to go on tiptoes, quiet as a mouse."

"I can do that. Miss Carrie says I'm the quietest girl in class."

"That's right, sweetie, the quietest girl in class. Are you ready."

"Yes...I'm scared."

"Hold my hand. Just hold my hand."




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