I was eleven when I died. When they killed me, that is.
I don't know if I miss my life. I didn't have a happy life, of course. But I wanted to have parents. Like all the other girls. And let me not be like them. We were never alike. Maybe because none of them killed their mother like I did.
Children shouldn't die. Especially the way I got killed. Children should laugh, be warmed by tight hugs, eat ice cream, read books and live them. As I was reading then. Even if I didn't live it. And since I have no life left, now I only have her story.
If you could live again and again, having the same name, the same heart, the same body, would you choose to be you? Would you love the same way again the same people?
An exciting book full of twists and turns!
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