He saw himself retreating from barricade to barricade, Ruth always advancing, perfectly oblivious of the terror she inspired. 137 The living conditions of her kills were often so sordid that she would spend hours washing them off of her, and August brought her to the Greene River once again, scrubbing the stink from her hair with Ivory Liquid Dishwashing Detergent. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. “I’ve been playing since I was five, Lucy! You’re just more talented than I am.
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