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Heroines were effortlessly lovely at all times, but Rae had spent whole days lying on a cold bathroom floor with her head in the toilet, vomiting bile. She’d spent years writhing in agony like a hairless, screaming animal. A woman turned into a wicked worm. That didn’t happen to heroines. Only villains became withered and twisted, fate making sure their outsides matched their insides. If your suffering was ugly, stories said you deserved it.
