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Free at Last
I was supposed to sleep, but who could possibly sleep after the beating I had endured. I was sure they had tried to kill me. I didn’t want to sleep; this was the night I had waited for—the night I had prayed for--after more than eighteen months in captivity. It was still dark—dark as pitch-- and very early. I leaned up from the floor to try to see the clock—3:27—perfect, or so I prayed. Rebecca and Mark were drunk after their celebration when they went to sleep last night—maybe passed out...