My name is Molly Madison. I’m sixteen years old. And I live in what used to be Texas.
Molly gripped her journal a little tighter. Where should she start? The beginning was usually the best place, they said. She put her pen to paper and scribbled.
I’m forgetting things—things I don’t want to forget. So, I’m going to write it all down—from the day of The Fa…
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