Erased

Marshall tossed and turned in his bed. He knew it was the lie he had told that kept pricking his conscience and was keeping him awake. He punched the pillow, snuggled deeper under the covers, and squeezed his eyes shut. But he could not turn off the little voice in his head. Tell your mom you're sorry. Tell the truth
tell the truth
tell the truth.

Marshall finally gave up. He scrambled out of bed and stumbled into the living room. His mom looked up from her computer as he burst into sobs. "What's the matter, honey?" she asked. "Did you have a bad dream?"

Marshall shook his head. "No," he choked out. "I
I told you a lie. I said I didn't know how that figurine you like so much broke, but I do. I was tossing a ball around and knocked it off the shelf." Marshall sniffed loudly. "I'm sorry."

Mom hugged him. "It hurts to know you lied to me, Marshall, and you know that means you'll be grounded for a few days--we've talked about that before. But I'm glad you confessed." She turned her comp