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... e hall. The guests gasped at the impact, drawing in a cold breath.
I held my cheek in my hand, its sting burning hot, and no doubt a clear and brutal palm print must have been etched on my face as the metallic taste of blood invaded my mouth.
Slowly, I lifted my head, my gaze slowly taking in their faces. My mother stood silently without a comment, her gaze lowered. I guessed she must have been aware of the whole plot.
My father, he had his hand clenched tightly as though ...
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