“What the hell do I have to do!?” I yell.

I can feel him behind me. I do my best to turn and face him. His right eye flashes a wave of pain as a grin splits his face. His contorted smile reopens the scabs on his lips and stretches the scars on his right cheek.

Old Mrs. D’Angelo’s house.” He says. “Burn it to the ground.

I taste vomit in the back of my throat.

“No…” The resolution in my voice is lost.

Tomorrow night. I left a gas can and a welding torch out back.

“No…” I sob.

Sweet dreams, Liam.

Another storm of pain comes. The vomit that was waiting in the back of my throat makes it’s way out of me and I lose consciousness as I collapse into a pool of my own bile.

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