Grace Raynham Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Oh, but the rage, precious! Some blokes, they’d hit her, leave her bruised – “Who do you think you are?!” I’d hiss at ‘em in me head, clawin’ the air. Hated that, made me wanna bite somethin’. She’d shrug, tho, tough as old boots, sayin’, “It’s the game, innit?” Game?! More like a bloody cage! Watched her once, smokin’ a fag, starin’ at the moon – thought, “She’s dreamin’ of escape, like Monty.” Maybe she was, precious, maybe she was.

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Locked behind the walls at Raynham hall's apartments. There's where she remained, driven insane until death came. It was a shame "Unfaithful salacious whore.

I’m not here to pat your head; I’m here to spill the tea. Raynham is raw and real. It pisses me off sometimes – the potholes on Cherry Lane that make you feel like you’re driving on a bloated, forgotten carcass of asphalt. But damn it, that rough edge is also its charm.

Brickstone Brewhouse Tavern to replace The Great American Pub in Raynham. What we know.