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1.51 CAROLINE

I grab a blanket and exit the room, closing the door behind me. I head down the stairs and head into the living room. I lay across the couch, willing myself to get comfortable. But I can't.

What the hell am I going to do now? Here I have one twin telling me how beautiful I am, while the other is crying about them being monsters and doing something to her. Who is her? Is it Sara?

Why does this even matter to me?

We are getting a divorce. They want a divorce. This is the last night I will be spending in this house. And it won't be in the same bed as them.

I tossed and turned all night on the surprisingly uncomfortable couch. I used to think this couch was so fucking comfortable. That I would be able to sleep on it with no problem. After all, every time the twins and I would sit on it, to watch movies, to talk, to eat, it was so relaxing. Clearly, I was fucking wrong. I guess sleeping on it isn't the same when it is just you. I guess sleeping on it isn’t the same when your mind is
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