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“No!” I gasp sitting up, just another stupid dream. C’mon! Pull yourself together Azalea! But I couldn’t pull myself together. I sat there crying in the morning light. It was the same dream. More of an old reality, a reality of when my mom was murdered. I witnessed it. I stand up and brush myself off. “Time to get ready Azalea!” I whisper to myself. I look into my small broken basket. I grab my stolen toothpowder and rub it onto my teeth. Then I gulp down some water and climb the Papaya tree.

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