Alison I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, my mouth dry and my body heavy. I groaned, forcing myself to sit up as the events of last night came rushing back—Damien’s harsh words, the numbing sting of alcohol, the blaring music, Mabel dragging me to dance. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and held my head in my hands, willing the pounding inside my skull to stop. When that didn’t work, I dragged myself downstairs to the kitchen, hoping food or water would help. The smell of coffee and toast filled the air, and Mabel was already there, perched on the counter, scrolling through her phone. She glanced up when she heard me walk in, her lips curling into an amused smirk. “Having a migraine, huh?” she teased. I winced at the brightness of the kitchen lights. “I didn’t even realize I drank that much.” Mabel chuckled. “Oh, you did. You were the life of the party, babe. At some point, you were dancing on a table.” I groaned, covering my face with my ha
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