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In the few weeks since my strange symptoms had begun, my dad had been spending much more time with me than usual. He was determined to support me as much as possible, but it was taking a toll on him; he had withdrawn from the rest of his life, even from Giselle. Since my breakdown in his apartment, he had also started keeping a daily journal, independent of the one he shared with my mom, not only to try to help him piece together the medical developments but also simply to help himself cope. After my second escape attempt, he wrote a heartbreaking entry about praying that God would take him instead of me.
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