A fluttering heap of blood and feathers.
She watched in horror, unable to react, as he poked it again with a stick. Playing, enjoying the torment, as its life pulsed out onto the asphalt.
The hawk was upright for a moment – the cruel stick pushing it down again.
She yelled from her car, already crying.
He flipped her off and nudged the dying bird with his foot.
She opened the car door.
With a belligerent scowl he put his heel on the bird and lean all his weight onto it.
He walked off the side of the road, wiped his feet in the grass.
She put the car in reverse and ran over him again.
Pulling forward slowly.
Stopping with a wheel on him.
Crushing his pelvis.
She retrieved the stick from beside the hawk’s body and walked back to the dying man.
He wouldn’t need eyes now…
She pulled over.
Vomited again into the backseat.
The wheels weren’t red anymore.
Just her mind.