Can you count the letter "r" in:
We finally learn what really happened during Camille's time in the psych ward.
Spoilers for Sharp Objects Episode 3, "Fix," below.
There are two dead girls in Camille Preaker’s present, and two in her past. Ann Nash and Natalie Keene are present only as corpses and memories in Sharp Objects, the classic victims without a voice. But their deaths take on greater meaning when overlaid with the traumatic losses of girls Camille loved: her little sister Marian, and now Alice (played by The Handmaid’s Tale’s Sydney Sweeney), Camille’s roommate at the psychiatric facility where she was recently treated.
This wrenching series of flashbacks to Camille’s not-so-distant past shed light on the severity of her illness and the reason those white headphones carry such significance for her. After hitting a vein while cutting her wrist, Camille checked herself into the hospital and was admitted to the psychiatric unit. It turns out her use of music as a way to zone out and self-soothe is a recent development; in the psych ward she tells Alice she’s not into music. “No wonder you’re here, girl!” Alice jokingly responds, before explaining that with her headphones and iPod—the use of which is strictly limited on the ward—she can get out any time she wants.
Alice also has a history of self-harm, and after some initial tension the pair develop a big sister-little sister bond. Camille’s age is discouraging to Alice, who always hoped she would grow out of self-harming, and Camille admits she’s “never been very good at the adult thing.” That line resonates later in the episode, when Camille takes Detective Willis to the parking lot where she hung out with boys as a teenager, back when she was the It Girl of Wind Gap. There’s a part of Camille that stayed frozen in adolescence, unable to move on or heal, which is not at all uncommon for victims of abuse (more on that in a moment).
Amma seems eager to aid in Camille’s regression to teenage life, imploring her new big sister to party with her. Camille declines, and gently admonishes Amma when she rolls home wasted on a Saturday night, telling the girl she needs to be careful. Amma says she’s never had a sister before: “I just want to know you," she drawls. As Camille hugs Amma, the rain through the bedroom window dissolves to the rain on Camille’s windshield as she drives herself to the hospital; another of the show’s sharp, specific edits, this one drawing an explicit link between Alice and Amma.
And the conclusion of Alice’s story adds another layer to Camille’s deep sense of isolation; Alice committed suicide by drinking a bottle of Drano, leaving behind a horrific scene for Camille and a nurse to discover. Camille is so traumatized in the moment that her first reaction—after vomiting—is to slash her wrists with a rusty nail from the toilet.
Because Adora, abusive as ever, is still treating Camille like she’s toxic waste. Despite the fact that Amma is literally hanging out at the slaughterhouse in her spare time, Adora doubles down on the idea that Camille is the real danger, spitting “She’s just a little girl, she doesn’t understand what you are.” Even more unsettling is the moment right afterwards, when Adora cuts herself with garden sheers and instantly blames it on Camille. Watching all the tiny, specific ways Adora dehumanizes and gaslights her own daughter makes it easy to understand how Camille ended up in the mental state she’s in. But is Amma—who Adora dotes on as fervently as she shuns Camille—really any better off?
Willis is convinced the killer is a Wind Gap local; somebody who knew Ann and Natalie and had a specific beef with them. Vickery is still brushing him off, sticking to his convenient theory that a stranger passing through town committed the crimes.
 Amma hates her, but Amma also seems to have a low-key thing for John herself, and is not the most reliable judge of character.
Ashley is outwardly friendly to Camille, and convinces John to speak to her, a conversation which goes about as well as you’d anticipate. John’s on edge from the start, and given that the entire town seems to think he killed his sister because he cried at her funeral, can you blame him? Though John says he has no alibi, Ashley insists he he was with her on the night of the murder. Ashley’s line: “I don’t want people to think my boyfriend is a baby killer, thank you very much,” suggests she's probably lying for him.
This may or may not be a relevant clue: it turns out Adora knew Ann well; she tutored her for some time, and Ann was incredibly fond of her. Hard to imagine, given what we’ve seen of Adora’s maternal instincts.

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In that passage, there are two hundred and one occurrences of the letter "r."
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