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“I’m out of here!” I walked out of my grade school on the last day of eighth grade knowing that I would never return as a student at St. Ann’s School. I felt like I was on top of the world: no more school until next year, no more grade school, and no more worries, or so I thought. That day when I arrived home, I thought I had wide-open spaces ahead of me. I was so wound up that I burst through the front door of my house and ran to give my mom a big hug. I ran to the kitchen; she was not there. I ran to her bedroom; she was not there either. This was unusual. My mom was always there when I arrived home from school at the end of the day. My loud stomps from running quickly turned into sluggish footsteps. She was nowhere to be found! And then I found it, the note that turned my bright eyes into a wet mess. It read: “Laura, we are at the hospital. Call me as soon as you get this! I love you. Love, Mom.” Tears began to run down my cheeks. I hurried to the phone and quickly dialed the number. There was no answer. “Mom, pick up…pick up!” my mouth chattered. I had never been so scared and so confused in my entire life.
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