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... ill echoed around me like a chorus of hyenas. I could see them out of the corner of my eye—some pointing fingers in my direction, others making crude gestures, all of them getting their kicks at my expense.

"Can you believe that loser actually bagged Sara Clinton?" One of them whispered, loud enough for me to hear.

"I mean, she’ll sleep with anyone, but still..." Another added, followed by more snickers.

I kept my face neutral, staring at a crack in the wall as if it was ...

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