Confessions of a Bitch

The Boy You Dispose Bodies With

From what dad told me as a kid, being shot hurts like hell. That is, unless your adrenaline kicks in pretty quickly; then you won't feel a thing. You won't feel a thing if you're dead either.

Since the gun was pointed at my head when Angel pulled the trigger, I figure out I'm dead straight away. Actually, I might be in a coma or something. Or maybe I'm in Limbo.

"Amanda!" I frown when I hear Hotpants' voice. I'm pretty sure you don't hear voices when you're dead, in a coma, or in Limbo. "Amanda, open your eyes."

"I'm supposed to be dead," I say out loud. Wait. Fuck, I must still be alive.

"You're kidding me, right? You're not dead, Amanda. Your eyes are just closed."

I slowly open one eye, then the other. David Walker stands over me, with a bloody cricket bat in hand. I am laying on the floor, in the middle of Bob's backyard, and I'm pretty sure I'm flashing David. "What happened?"

"We have a problem." David takes my hand and helps me sit up. I look to my side and swallow hard. We do have a problem. Angel's gun has been flung across the backyard, and his body lies on a strange angle on the floor, beside me. His head has been bashed in, and various bits from his head, cover a little patch on the dry grass.

Shit.

"That explains the cricket bat," I mutter dryly.

"I was only trying to protect you." David explains as he throws the bat on the floor, beside Angel's corpse.

I rub my temples, as I try my best to get my thoughts together. A couple of minutes ago, I was running through the house, away from a psycho, who wanted to put the nail in my coffin. Now, I had to figure out a way to deal with his corpse. I ignore my aching scalp and jaw, and turn to look up at David. "We need to dispose the body."

"But how are we going to do that?" he asks agitatedly. "We can't throw him in the river, because someone will be bound to find him. We can't exactly burn him, and we sure as hell, aren't cooking him up and serving him as meat pie."

I raise an eyebrow in response. When on earth did David Walker read The String of Pearls. "David, get yourself together. We aren't going to dispose him in the river, burn him or cook him. We'll just bury him."

"And where are we going to do that?"

"We're going to do it here."

"You must be joking."

I slowly get up from the floor and stagger back into the house, with David not too far behind. I open the door to the garage and turn on the lights. The shovel isn't hard to find. I knew Bob always kept one in the house, because he used to garden all the time when I was little. It was just one of those phases he went through, such as doing LSD and watching cooking shows. I pick up the shovel and clumsily place it in David's hands. "You're going to do the digging."