It’s been 11 years. My tormenters are cruel and relentless. But I am equally determined. I will survive this, and I will do it on my terms. I feel sick. Today’s torture has left me broken.
“It’s just broccoli, Jimmy.”
I don’t understand them. But they are unyielding in their demands. I weep.
“If you eat your broccoli, you can have dessert.”
My resolve is weakening. I feel myself falling victim to their words. Just. One. Bite. And it’s done.
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