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Amelie When I was six years old, I had asked my father if I could have a baby brother and that was the first time my father had hit me. His large hand had slapped me so hard, my small body of a six year old girl had fell with the blow. My ears held felt like they were between two sets of huge bells and they were constantly ringing on either side of me. The pain was the second thing I remembered. The searing pain that had ran through me like a fire in a dry forest. This time the pain was absent but the ringing was there, followed by his two words that were working as those huge bells. “Marry me.” He had said. Or may be I was wrong, I tried to tell myself that I was wrong. But one look at him. At the set of his jaw. At the look in those blue eyes, now not so bright and the firm set of hi