She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. Listen to me, Winifred. She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 20-09-2024 14:08:25
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