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the works of anthony barnhart

36 Hours Excerpt
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The gun’s sights reveled over him: “Give me the knife, Les.” He tossed it through the air; I caught it by the blade, almost cutting my fingers. I took it by the handle and tossed the gun to Les. He jumped out of the way; it clattered on the tiled foyer and came to a stop against the wall. I took the key in my hand once more and twisted it in the lock; I kicked the door open with my foot and holding the knife barred, jumped right in.

Blood had been splattered all over the mirror, and a bullet had fragmented most of it into a webbed masterpiece. I saw my own horrid reflection in the mirror, yet was drawn to Amanda’s naked body, sick and twisted, purple and ghastly, a skeleton of death, opened its yellowed jaws, hollering in rage. She leapt up at me, springing agile; I ducked out of the way and sliced at her with the knife, slitting open her chest. Blood sprayed all against the wall; I elbowed her hard in the face, breaking her nose. Blood trailed down to her mouth; she reeled at me, jaws gaping, teeth dripping with malicious poison; I drove the tip of the blade into her eye; she screeched once and fell still against me. Suddenly the body was so heavy. I side-stepped and let it fall onto the counter, and then into the floor, where blood began to form an ocean on the white-washed tile.

I left the room, my clothes only partially stained with blood. Faith stared at me and Les held the gun.

He said, “It’s empty.”

To both of them: “Endanger the only family I have left like this again, and I swear I’ll take your lives.”