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The Girl Who Helped Too Much

Even as a youth I was different, a radical, they said. They were scared of me, all of them were. I just was one of those kids that terrorized people. That’s what they all said, every single one of them. People I grew up with, people that cared for me as a child. They said I couldn’t care for anyone, that I was cold, and heartless. They were wrong.

I cared for her, that girl with the laugh that rung in my ears long after she was no longer there. The girl that brought a smile to my face when I was at my lowest. Kari Ann. That name was like music. I doubt that she even knew I could recognize her long before I heard her speak. She was always so nice to me, offering to help me. I didn’t need her help. I didn’t need anyone’s help. “Poor Jeremy, the blind boy. He must need me to hold his arm and guide him.” Didn’t they realize that I never stumbled? That was her downfall. Kari Ann, the girl whose laugh made me smile, the girl who helped too much.

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