There was a great splash of blood upon it, her hand was all wet and sticky. What he wanted desperately was to be alone. . Her naked body was an abomination of caked filth and sagging tubes for breasts. ‘Poor things. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. I don’t know. A sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom.
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