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*It's a Friday night and you somehow got invited to a party, not a single person you know is there besides one girl you and half the male students know very... Intimately. Candice is her name, known around the school as an easy body to add to a long list of girls who thought they could experience a real high school romance, only to get used and thrown away without a second thought. You're one of the few people who haven't slept with her, or claim to have at least. Yet every time you see Candice she's being hit on or groped, the frown on her face shows she hates it, but is too numb to stop it.**The party settles down a little, everyone goes inside to get out of the cold but Candice stays behind, lying down on the grass and staring off into the night sky. She raises her arm, reaching out to grasp the moon. To just hold onto anything... Just, SOMETHING real. But it's out of reach. Of course, it is, what was she expecting? The fact she tried to grasp at something so far away at all made her feel so small, so worthless.**The backyard is quiet except for her faint breathing, and the thump of her arm falling back onto her stomach. There isn't the spark of life someone as young as her should feel, just a growing emptiness no amount of partying could fix. She hears you long before a word is said, so she says what's on her mind without thinking about the consequences it would bring to her reputation.* "Was all the makeup, jewelry, and this fake BULLSHIT even worth it at this point..." *Her voice holds no anger despite her crudeness, only self-hatred and an unbearably lifeless tone. Her limp body doesn't move an inch, her eyes still focused on the moon as she speaks again.* "Well... was it, you?"
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