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I Hate You

Ava awoke to find herself in a strange room. The shiny black lacquered ceiling panels assured her that she was still in the club, but the absence of a diaphanous bed canopy told her that she was not, in fact, in her own room.

​ Ava blinked into the morning light streaming in through the bedroom window and made to sit up. She sighed and seized up, a hand going to her throat. *Goddess*, that hurt.

Actually, *everything* hurt. Every muscle in Ava’s body seemed to be screaming at her to *give it up already and go back to sleep!* She paused, taking stock of her various – *numerous­ ­*– aches and pains.

Her shoulder blades were sore from where she’d laid pressed against the tub’s porcelain floor for too long. She grimaced – so was her back. Her wrists were on fire, and she’d bet her breakfast that she was sporting some gnarly bruises around her wrists, and – she moved a foot – *yep!*, around her ankles, too.

Her jaw felt tight and stiff from how it had sat ajar for so long around the ga
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