She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. “It’s bound to be all right,” she said. As for the patient, his decision was immediate. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. “Hand me the Jergens lotion, will you? How’d it go with John?” She asked. ‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me.
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