I had to squeeze the head of his dick to open the slit so I could get the twist inside. It tore the hole up some, going in, but he didn’t do anything particular when I finally worked it inside. But after I’d worked it around another quarter of an inch, it got a lot tougher, and he began to bleed more.

Once he lifted his foot up off the ground, swallowing.

His eyes were closed.

“… a little more!”

I worked it around some more.

“… okay!” he whispered.

The blood down his pants leg was like the piss, like the spit. I sucked my fingers. The blood was saltier than piss. I liked it.

Denny still panted; but he had this funny grin. The nail looked pretty odd, stained and angled through the head of his cock on one side; you couldn’t help wondering about how it was held together, even if you knew. After a while, Denny blinked: “Now I gotta see if I can walk …!” He took a breath, and two steps forward. “Christ!” He limped on the right leg a lot. He stood, hands cupped under his crotch. “Jesus, that feels like … like somethin’ else, cocksucker!” He took another breath. “Come over here and let me lean on you, man. Come on.” He put one hand on my shoulder and we walked around the littered kitchen table. “I’ll be all right, yeah … Oh, fuck!” which made me think he was going to cry. Except he was grinning. And he’d pushed his works back inside his fly by the time we got to the end of the hall.

They were still on the couch. But another table was turned over and the rug was all wrinkled across the room, which made me guess they’d been off the couch and were back on it.

Dad was still tied up in the chair.

I didn’t see the kid.

Somebody had stepped on one of the chess pieces—the wooden rook was split, and there was the pattern of a boot sole on the board.

Hogg pushed himself up off the woman. He was sweating, his shirt was open, his belt flapped down his sides, and his dick was hard and shiny. “Hey, wop!” He grinned. “You wanna fuck her, you goddamn dago?” He turned right, left, swinging his hammy arms. “You wanna fuck her, come on.” In one fist, Hogg gripped the wop’s knife. “Come on, wop!” Suddenly he jabbed the blade straight down.

She shrieked.

Blood fountained around Hogg’s knuckles.

Hogg twisted, and ripped.

The blade came up out of her thigh, with stuff on it.

She was hollering and choking at the same time, and kicking and crying and screaming some more.

“Fuck on that!” Hogg shouted.

Hogg staggered back, and the wop was over her so fast I wasn’t sure what he was doing.