Not us. “I am sorry,” he said slowly. S. There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again. 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. "Don't scourge me," she cried, trying to hide herself in the farthest corner of the cell.
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