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It just wasn't fair! He didn't care what the lousy rules were, it wasn't fair! He wouldn't forgive her for as long as he lived. And he hated her! He hoped she'd die! He prayed that she'd get hit by a bus, or that somebody would shoot her dead, or . . . The small, sobbing boy ground his streaming face deeper into his pillow to muffle the sound of his pain, asking God to forgive what he'd just thought. He didn't hate her, of course, he loved her -- really! She was his mother, and he'd be completely alone if anything ever happened to her. He was so sorry, wishing such awful things -- he didn't mean it -- not that part of it, anyway. But it really wasn't fair, getting rid of Tippy when he was at school. And the part about never forgiving her as long as he lived was true. He wouldn't -- not ever. Finally, totally exhausted by anger and misery, the boy fell into a restless, nightmare-riddled sleep, one in which he ran and ran, calling again and again to his beloved dog who had disappeared somewhere ahead in the dark, scary night. |