No. Those memories would not serve him here. Only the fury. That metallic, constant anger that knew neither emotion nor restraint. Emotionless, like the gators he’d grown up hunting, the black tide inside himself would rise to the occasion and like a puppeteer, he would take total control of the wicked things his hands would do.

He’s a total puss,” Mercy continued. “But…shifty, too. Like, a shifty pussy.”               RJ

His hand moved up to cover her mouth, lightly, and she laughed against it. “You’re suppressing my first amendment rights,” she said, voice muffled.               “You don’t live in America; you live in the United States of Teague.

When would people stop saying his name out loud? Each time was a tiny gunshot through her heart.

How did life get so messed up?”
Maggie dabbed at the corners of her eyes and exhaled, quieting, gathering her composure. “Baby, it’s not messed up,” she said with a reassuring smile. “Just a little bumpy.

The prospect was not-so-subtly studying Rodd or Todd or whatever-the-fuck-his-name-was across the bar. He rubbed his chin. “I think he seems…well, like a pussy–”               “Yes!” Mercy slapped the table. “Thank you. It’s like I’ve been trying to tell them.”               Walsh shook his head with a delicate look of disgust. “No, you haven’t.”               “He’s a total puss,” Mercy continued. “But…shifty, too. Like, a shifty pussy.”               RJ made a choking sound.