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"Avery Jansen. Please tell me you are not drunk," the old lady said.

"I'm not drunk," Avery said.

Avery stumbled as she walked passed her grandmother and thought it so hilarious that she giggled all the way up the stairs, slamming the door to her bedroom.

Violet stood at the bottom of the stairs, her face a mixture of anger and relief that Avery had come home safely.

The old lady ignored the tic that suddenly started in her top right eyelid. The muscles in her temples felt like steel cables pulling a skyscraper across the city, a sure sign of a coming migraine.

Avery was begging for trouble, Violet thought.

And Violet had lived long enough to know that that kind of begging came with a ticket for a roller coaster ride straight to hell.

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