I told her everything. About the boy who made my stomach hurt every morning before kindergarten. About the pictures I found on my brothers computer. I told her about the stain I left on our brand new counters and how i often felt that was my only place in that home. Being the stain. I told her about the dreams and the thoughts and the actions that were soon to come. I told her more than I wanted. And the time is coming where the stain will fade. And all it will be is a giant outline of where I was. But the stain will fade. And the pain will pass. And you'll be grateful that it's over.