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December 10, 1950

Dear Diary,
I don't see why they sent me off to live here. It's not as if everyone in the village doesn't already know my condition. This is just so they can pretend. They're all about pretending, aren't they? The food is horrid - how can I eat for two when I can barely keep down the food? Head cheese! I hope they'll let me go home for Christmas. God know what Cook here will put in the fruitcake. She hates us all.

December 12, 1950

Dear Diary,
The ladies in the village gave me that look again, but I refuse to hide away in this house for six months, six months! It'll be summer then. Strange to think how I'll just go home afterwards and we'll all pretend nothing happened. Like when Margie Oliphant came back and everyone pretended she'd been visiting cousins across the Bridge. No one will ever marry her now. Nor me, I suppose. Not unless I can move away. I wonder if a man can tell? Will my body be different? No one will tell me anything useful.

December 19, 1950

Oh my God. I'm never leaving the house again. I don't care if we ARE required to go to church! Those women are lunatics, the way they ganged up on me! You'd think they'd be GLAD I'm giving up the baby. They put their children on the train -- wouldn't they want another child? But no, I'm apperantly the worst sinner in the world for sending mine away. Am I supposed to raise it here? Much better for it to live on a farm.

How they screamed at me. Rabid dogs. My heart is still pounding. I hate them.

Some day I'm going to punish them. I'm going to punish them all.

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