The eyes glazed over in pain as the scalpel of these words incised the young man’s soul.

“She’d never say that.”

“You were the big minority experiment. She wanted a black man to fuck. But somebody who wasn’t too black of course. She thought you’d be a good compromise. About as white as they come. But then she decided she’d got herself a clunker. She told me she had to drink a half bottle of Southern Comfort just so she could kiss you!”

“No!”

“She and Amy’d stay up all night making fun of you. Megan does a great impression of you. She’s got you down cold.”

“Go to hell!”

“Joshua, you asked for this!” Matthews shouted. “You pushed me, so you’re going to hear the truth whether you want it or not. She wanted your pathetic face out of her life. White nigger. You were a toy. She told me again this morning. When we were fucking on the desk in my office.”

The boy erupted. And while Matthews’s words might have driven someone else to act ruthlessly and efficiently it drove Joshua manically forward toward Matthews, out of control. He dropped the machete and flailed away with his fists. “She never said that!” he cried. “She never said that never said that never said that-”

Matthews fell to the ground, covering his head with his left arm. And when he rose a moment later he was holding the machete.

The young man froze.

Matthews studied him for a moment-the boy suddenly realizing that something very bad was going on.

Joshua lowered his arms. “What are you going to do to me?” he asked in a soft, pathetic whisper.

Matthews tasted the extraordinary voice one last time and stepped forward, swinging the machete into Joshua’s throat.

The boy gave a gurgling scream and stumbled forward. Matthews leapt back, away from the boy’s swinging fist, and slashed his arm deeply Then his leg. Joshua fell onto his back, cradling the gash in his throat.

Matthews plunged the rusty blade into the young man’s abdomen. But with astonishing strength Joshua pushed Matthews off, twisted away, and rose to his knees, choking and coughing. The blood flowed between the fingers clutching his torn neck as Joshua crawled fast, like an animal, back through the gate toward the hospital. Matthews didn’t bother to pursue him. Joshua got thirty feet into the field surrounding the hospital before collapsing in a stand of Queen Anne’s lace, which turned a deep purple under the spray of his blood.

Matthews slowly walked toward him. Then stopped. He heard an animal snarling, growing closer. He backed quickly away from the quivering body.

The rottweilers appeared from behind the house. They paused, stood rigid for a moment then charged forward hungrily Matthews stepped out of the gate and swung it closed as the dogs swarmed in a single muscular pack over the body, which had looked so strong and impervious moments ago and was now just ragged meat.

Matthews leaned against the bars of the gate, enraptured, watching the young man die. Joshua fought hard-he tried to rise and struggled to hit the dogs. But it was useless. The big male rottie closed his enormous jaws on the back of Joshua’s neck and began to shake. After a moment the body went limp.

The animals dragged him into the ravine for the feast. His body vanished under the mass of snarling, bloody mouths.

Matthews quickly changed the Mercedes’s tire and climbed into the car then sped down the rough road. He’d bury what remained of the boy’s corpse later. He didn’t have time now. Too many things to do. He was thinking that this was just like when he was a practicing therapist. Busy days, busy days. There were people to see, people to talk to.

I’m here to change your life forever

Who is he? Who?

Megan McCall floated on a dark ocean, that one question the only thing in her thoughts. She opened her eyes and gripped the thin, filthy mattress she lay on. The room swayed and bobbed.

She was dizzy and nauseated. Her mouth painfully dry, her eyes swollen half closed. She rolled onto her back and examined the small room. There were flaking cushions mounted on all the walls, bars on the windows.

A padded cell.

And the whole place stank so bad she thought she might puke.

She sat up briefly, trying to find a light. There was none. The overhead lamp had been removed and the room was dark. Maybe she- Suddenly roaring filled her ears. Her vision dissolved into black grains and she collapsed back on the bed, passed out. Sometime later she opened her eyes again, managed to sit up then waited until the dizziness passed and she stumbled into the tiny bathroom. The drug he’d injected… it was still in her system. She’d have to take it slow.

Megan sat down on the toilet, spread her legs and finally worked up the courage to examine herself. No tenderness or pain. No come. He might have groped but he hadn’t raped her. She sighed in relief then urinated and washed her hands and face in the basin. She drank a dozen handfuls of icy water. As she stood-careful, careful, take your time-she caught sight of herself in the metal mirror bolted to the wall. She gasped. Pale and haggard, blond hair knotted and filthy. Eyes red and puffy. And frightened. Megan stepped away from the mirror quickly.

She looked for her clothes. Nothing. She couldn’t find anything to wrap herself in. No sheets or curtains. This started a crying fit. She huddled into a ball and sobbed.

Wondering how long she’d been unconscious. A week, a day? She wasn’t hungry so she guessed it was still Saturday. Maybe Sunday at the latest.

Was anyone looking for her?

Did anyone know she was missing?

Her parents, of course. She’d missed the lunch. Which she’d been going to blow off anyway. Thank God she hadn’t called her mother and told her she wasn’t coming, the way she’d planned. If that had happened they still wouldn’t miss her.

And Amy…

Should have told her where I was going.

But, no, Crazy Megan wouldn’t hear of that. C.M. was embarrassed, didn’t want anybody to know she’s been seeing a shrink. Fuck. She should’ve gone to Juvie Detention after all. Ten days in jail and it’d be over with. But Megan had to pick the nut doctor.

Who is he? she screamed to herself. Was he the man in that car that’d been following her near school? She’d started to believe that was her imagination.

Guess not, honey, Crazy Megan offers with no sympathy whatsoever.

Standing by the bed, Megan looked out the barred window into a huge field of tall grass and brush. Some trees, many of them cut down and left to rot.

She gasped suddenly as a huge dog trotted past the window and stopped, staring up at her. A bit of bloody flesh dangled from its mouth, red, like a scrap of steak. Its eyes were spooky-too human-and it seemed to recognize her. Then suddenly the dog tensed, wheeled and vanished.

She examined the window. The iron bars were thick and the space between them was far too small for her to get through.

Frustrated, she pounded her palms against the wall.

Who is he?

Megan strode to the door, gripped and pulled it hard. It was, of course, locked tight. The tears returned suddenly; they fell on her breasts, and her nipples contracted painfully from the sobbing and the dank cold of the dismal room.

Who is he?

Why did they make her go to see the doctor? If they hadn’t this never would’ve happened.

What’d I do to deserve this? Nothing! I didn’t do a thing!

If her mother was going to fuck nerds in Baltimore then for Christ’s sake why didn’t she call me? Just a three-minute phone call. Sorry honey I’m going to be late call Domino’s and use the charge card have Amy over and all right even Brittany too but no boys…

If her father was going to waste his life chasing bimbettes why couldn’t he at least spend more than one weekend a month with her?