Then I saw him. Just lying there, covering his belly with his hands. He may have still been alive, I don’t know. He didn’t make any sound, and he wasn’t rolling around. But his eyes were still open. I don’t know if he saw anything. The blood was pumping through his fingers, a god awful pumping of blood. Red and black and purple. If I had to, I would have finished him. It would have been the merciful thing to do. But he didn’t move, not an inch. I didn’t even want to touch him to see, you know, if there was a pulse. I knew he was finished, one way or the other, he was finished. That’s a good thing, right? It was merciful. The man wasn’t… Henry, he wasn’t twenty feet off our property line. What the hell was he doing that close? He could have practically looked into our kitchen window, he was that close. You can look. Go ahead and look. I’ll take you to my kitchen window, and you can see where he was standing. I don’t understand. I don’t know why Wayne shot at him. It must have been an accident, it…. why was he… why was he even pointing it at anyone? I don’t know. Wayne won’t say anything. He’s in his room. I think he’s in shock or something, he’s not even crying. I know it’s traumatized him, but I’m not sure I can take him to a doctor, not yet, because things… things would eventually come out. How do you explain something like this to someone? How….
I didn’t realize Kincaid had stopped talking until the silence became unbearable. I saw that he was staring at me.
Excerpt from Ordinary Handsome. Available at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00P46ZPA0
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