The boy’s face went stony. From the corners of his eyes came four streams of tears, streaking down his cheeks and meeting under his chin in a dewy bow. An agonized squeal escaped him, more animal than child. The boy seemed too scared to move, even to protect his mother, who was now pleading for him, calling his name. When he looked up to his father for either an answer or help, Henry didn’t care. Towering over this scabby rat bitch, he felt immense. He felt godlike.

Michelle’s lips were smeared red like some horror show clown’s. “Ha.”

“See, baby?” She spat blood. “What’d Mommy just tell you?”

Henry ordered Junior into the bathroom. Now.

“See what your pa just did? You saw that.”

“Now, Junior.”

“Know what kind of man hits a woman? A mommy?”

“Don’t you—”

“The selfish, tiny kind. You saw what he done to Mommy, but do you know what he done to his best friend? And so what he could do to you, too?”

“It was your idea. You’re too far gone and fucked up to remember the truth, what you told me to do. Didn’t even think about it, Michelle, just—snap. Your mind was made up and Al’s fate sealed.”

“Ha—”

“You asked me to, and so I did. For us, for our family—Junior, in the bathroom, now!”

“Look at him, your pa. Dickless, useless, and a liar, too. You don’t want to end up like that, do you, baby?” She crawled across the mattress, embraced the boy around the belly. “Come here. Come hold your mommy, baby.”

The next part was easy. Shockingly, shamefully so.

Henry snatched a fistful of Michelle’s hair and dragged her to the door. She was so light, a dried-out crust. No matter how madly she flailed or loud she screamed, it was so easy to heave her out the front door and smack it shut after her. The deadbolt and chain locked in two swift, easy swipes. He pinched the house key off her keychain, then threw the Saab keys and her winter coat out the window. She tried clawing into the opened window, but it was easy to slide it shut, sealing out her screams and the November wind. Her fists whacked and rattled the front door in its frame. He pressed his back against it then slid down to the floor, leveraging his weight in case the locks didn’t hold. Let Sandi come, he thought. Let her call the cops. Let them have their pick, they could take either Michelle or him away, all three of them for all he cared, because nothing mattered, not anymore.