No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. Here was an appalling fact: all her previous loneliness had been trifling beside that which now encompassed her and would for years to come. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest.
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