He is what I wanted to be. This is the version of myself I imagined on all those sleepless nights. The specter of death who’d stand over Raymond with dead-calm eyes and zero hesitation and make him understand, in his final moments, that he was nothing and had never been anything. That his death was administrative. A task on a checklist. Crossed-off for good and forgotten just as fast.
B.E.B. is violence incarnate. Not the sloppy, sweating, grunting kind that these three animals traffic in, but the kind I’ve spent four years trying to embody for my sister’s sake.
But right now, he’s bringing death for my sake.
Dr. Dishwasher recovers first from his slack-jawed shock. He lets go of me and charges B.E.B. with a wild haymaker that looks like it could take down a concrete pillar.
B.E.B. cou
