"Yeah," Brian said. "Yeah, I can see that."
She lifted herself out of bed, unmindful of her nudity, and pushed her
way past him to the door, to the bathroom.
"Stop being such a baby," she told Trey as he clutched at his
foot. "It's almost stopped bleeding already."
He looked up at her with murder in his eyes. "Shall I take
another one?" she said. He looked away.
"If I get word that you've come within a mile of my brother, I
will come back and take your eyes. The toe and the finger joint
were just a down payment on that."
He made a sullen sound, so she took his vain and girlish blond
hair in her fist and tugged his head back and kissed his throat
with the knife.
"Nod if you understand. Slowly."
#
"The knife is under Mimi's pillow."
"I can't do it," Alan said.
"I know," Brian said. "I will."
And he did. Took the knife. Took the Allen. It cried. Mimi threw up in
another room, the sound more felt than heard. The toilet flushed and
Brian's hands were sure and swift, but not sure enough. The Allen made a
sound like a dog whistle. Bruce's hand moved again, and then it was
over. He dug a sock out of the hamper and rolled up the Allen's remains
in it. "I'll bury it," he said. "In the back."