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... se by the time I stopped pretending I was doing anything other than hiding.

I’d locked myself in my room the moment I escaped Marina—the bump, the glare she gave me, the way she looked at me like I was dirt on her designer shoes.

I kept replaying it, even though I hated that I cared at all. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door like it might swing open any second.

It didn’t. No one had asked for me. No one had come looking. Not that I expected them to—but the ...

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The witch wished.

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