The doctor turned quickly and made for the door, which he opened and shut gently because he was assured that Ruth was listening across the hall for any sign of violence. Michelle would arrive daily with a two to ten minute brief on her own dating status, her nightly dreams, grades, new family developments. I have neither father, mother, brother, sister, nor husband—I have only him. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. He pushed her to his bed, little more than a cot, and pulled off her clothes. “I shot him.
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