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I used to believe that people can’t own people. That the only person you “belong” to is yourself. That we are made of ideas and thoughts and a million other intangible things. He stole me. I am not his. My momma had always told me that I was 93% stardust and nothing less. She told me that the minute a boy calls me his, to leave him.

For the first 100 day after I was stolen, I prayed that someone would find and save me.

I stopped counting the days after 100. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve seen the sun or the moon without foggy glass blocking it. It must have been at least a few hundred days by now. He calls me his little darling and I used to believe I wasn’t. It’s been so long now that I know I’m his. I’m his little darling. Forever and always. But he stole me, and starting today i’m going to do everything to steal me back. I’m his, and soon he will be mine too.

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