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Summary
There, right under my collar bone, is a hickey the size of my fist. It’s like a mark, like a sign that reads ‘Stan Marsh’s Property’. Except Stan Marsh wants nothing to do with me, at least not the way the mark suggests.
I didn’t want this. I don’t even know what it means.
And…
I hate him.
For the first time in my life, I honestly hate my best friend.
