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I didn’t move.
I barely breathed.
“At first it was for therapy,” he said. “It helped me make sense of everything. But then it turned into a real book.
My therapist encouraged me to submit it, and a publisher picked it up.”
“You wrote about me…”
“But Ryan, you didn’t ask. You didn’t tell me. You just took my story and made it your own.”
“Tara, I didn’t write about what happened to you.
I wrote about what I did. And my guilt… my shame.
And the way it’s haunted me.”
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