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.”