Lucy sat in the back seat as the trio sped through intersections in the old sedan. Jiggle-joggle, jiggle-joggle…! For each pause she was grateful. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study. There was a hint of tears in her voice. We have seen pitted cheeks, which we would not exchange for dimples and a satin skin. A few seasons went by where he initiated her into the disgusting rituals of killing and eating human beings, a dark time where she pined for a rescuer who never arrived. The barmaids had too strongly appealed to his sense of novelty. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. .
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