Margarethe could not control the tears. I dreamt of her, she thought, I saw her alive in my dreams, drinking the beer, saying that silly toast, and I ...oke up praying God to let me die because I couldn’t bear it…. ‘I’m sorry, Greta,’ said Arkroyd, seeing her pain, ‘I didn’t think it would still hurt so much….’ Margarethe’s face grew cold, hard, denying her feelings, telling another lie, but her heart and mouth couldn’t lie. Talking through her tears, ‘It will hurt so much until they dump my. I knew most of his secrets and he knew most of mine. Even if he couldn’t help me, it might be therapeutic to tell him my story. My plan was to stay as close to the truth as possible without revealing it was my mother who I sort of fucked. The next day I managed to get to him alone and I related my story. I concocted a story about me sleeping over at a friend's house and having an accidental encounter with this friend’s naked sister, who then lured me into her bedroom and spread her legs for me.. More

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