"But the proximity of the old bastard was having a toxic effect on us. Melissa was becoming really withdrawn and at times near catatonic. And me, when I turned sixteen, my outlet, while home in Holland, became a life of renting out my young body in Amsterdam. And snorting enough coke to kill a herd of feral stallions. You know, Chris, when Mel and I first discovered the old bastard's still cooling corpse with half his head blown off, we did something that we, or I anyway, am now very ashamed of. You know what we did, when we saw his prone body now already gathering flies out by the southern magnolia?" and now both his voice and his tone are rising into a heightened pitch of emotion. "Do you know what we did?"
I am now really afraid of where this might be going, and against my better judgment I reply, "Tell me."
He lets out a profound sigh, as though to cool his head, then he says, "We kicked him. Both of us. We wanted to know if he was really dead. Then we kicked him again and again and again. Then we knew he was really gone, he was really dead. So, spontaneously we high-fived each other. And we were both suddenly laughing. And that was the first time I had ever heard my sister laugh. .Because now he could no longer hurt her, or hurt me And you know what else we did. And this is something really terrible and now I am going to have to confess that I have been lying to you."
"Okay. Tell me, please."
"we went back to the house, brought back with us a couple of shovels, and we buried him..."
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