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Lady Tremaine

Her hair is a mess.

Get the comb. The straighteners. One at a time.

Get up.

Where is she?

She reaches for the bottle on the far side of her dressing table and pops it open, throwing three pills into her mouth and drowning them with a swig of last night's Merlot.

Where is she?!

Her clothes still smell of vomit.

A night she can't remember.

A night erased of the horrors of her dreams.

She dreams of her wedding night. The night her husband died and left behind his perfect, little daughter.

Where is she?

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