[ WP ] All my life I had been fascinated with the memories I can recall that were n't my own .

These memories are not mine. 
 
 They're somebody else's, and I really do n't like it. 
 
 I think that they belonged to a very, very bad man. I remember him calling some girls my age some really bad words, words Mommy told me never to say. Then he did something bad to them. 
 
... I do n't want to say what he did. It was really gross and horrible and I hope that that man is dead because he's evil. 
 
 I tried to tell Mommy what I saw, but she did n't believe me. She told me to stop making up stories and go back to bed because it was already 8:00 and Ms. Polanski would be mad if I feel asleep in class again but I could n't sleep so I stayed up all night hugging Mr. Bunny. 
 
 At least Mr. Bunny listens to me. I tried to tell Daddy, too, and he told me I was being silly and making up stories about bad things. 
 
 I just want the memories to go away. I do n't like seeing the dead bodies. They're young girls like me. And he made them take off their clothes, and do really bad stuff, and the he killed them. 
 
 I do n't want him to do it to me too. 
 
 I just want the memories to go away, but Mommy and Daddy do n't care. They never listen.
