“I don’t understand why she kicked us out. That was so rude,” Aran said with annoyance as we entered the foyer. I threw my hands up in agreement. “I get it—we’re not perfect—but she doesn’t have to be such a bitch about it? Like what does she want me to do, cry all day because I have terrifying scars and a cool knife? Sorry I’m not lame.” Aran nodded aggressively in agreement. “Exactly. Like okay, I’m not perfect. Sometimes I smother people in my sleep. It happens.”
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