Years ago, Wade would have been talking rapidly, trying to bury Bobby under his bullshit. Now he sits calmly and silently. Prison seems to have dried up his constant stream of words just like it transformed his body. Bobby can’t say that he likes the change much.

“What are you doing here?” Bobby asks. He hears the pleading tone in his voice and hates himself for it. It’s like he’s standing at the back of the group in junior high again, desperately trying to think of something funny or smart to say.

“I think you know,” Wade says, standing up. “You’re the only Warrior left, Hog.”

That’s true. Bobby kept track of the rest of the gang, if only to stay away from them. Troy took a corner too fast and too drunk on the county road. Mike died of an overdose in his girlfriend’s trailer. Derek moved to Arizona years ago and hasn’t been heard from since, and it’s easy to assume he died out there.

Bobby’s the only one left. He did everything right. He testified against Wade all those years ago. He got his life in order. And somehow, Wade is back.

Which shouldn’t be possible.

Wade takes a step toward him.

Bobby points with the knife, even though his hand is shaking badly. “Don’t,” he says. “You came to the wrong house, Wade. We’re not friends.”

“No,” Wade says agreeably. “We’re not.”

He keeps coming. Slowly. Like he’s got all the time in the world.

Bobby scrambles to get his phone out of his jeans. He fumbles and steps back, unable to get his keypad on the screen. He can’t remember the last time he actually had to dial a number.

Wade stands right in front of Bobby, and he reaches for the phone.

Bobby panics, and shoves the knife in Wade’s chest. The steel slides into him like he’s authentic Kobe beef.

Wade doesn’t scream. He doesn’t react that much at all. He looks down at his chest, sees the handle sticking out, and frowns.

“Really wish you hadn’t done that,” he says.

He pulls the knife out of his body. There’s surprisingly little blood. Just some kind of black, tarry ooze.

Bobby is frozen, watching the knife reemerge an inch at a time. Wade doesn’t even wince.

Instead, he turns the blade around, and stabs Bobby in the gut.

The pain is unreal. Bobby’s arms go numb, his fingers go loose, and he drops the phone even as Wade stabs him again. And again.

Bobby realizes his legs have gone out from under him. He’s looking up at Wade from the clean Saltillo tile floor of his kitchen. Unlike Wade, there’s a lot of blood coming out of Bobby. Way too much, really.