irony of his actionâAngie was in fact the one who had bought it for him. He wiped the hair and blood off the corner and released a sigh of frustration. âMother will probably ground me from the television,â he considered, looking to the mess he had made.
âDamn her. Damn them all. Why did she have to hurt Peg? Why?â Balefully, he kicked the corpse beside him. Her glazed eyes stared back at him with empty fascination. âYou bitch. You killed Peg.â
His sisterâs dead look gave no response. (He wondered why.) Her face looked so shadowed. He lifted her head up by her clotted hair and saw that it was dried blood on her cheek that created the mock shadow. He saw, too, that the dent in her skull had stopped gushing; the coagulated blood had formed a gelatinous plug.
Mother would be home soon. He would have to dig a grave.
Teddy got up and walked to his bedroom where Pegâs plastic body lay deflated. Atop her bloodless chest was a kitchen knife and she stared at the ceiling with her permanent expressionâmouth in the shape of an 0. She looked as if she would scream.
He picked up the dollâs head and looked tearfully at the flat terrain of her airless, life-sized figure. Cradling her head, he began to cryâeach tear held a thousand wishes to bring her back. He was glad Angie was deadâshe had deserved every last blow. As Teddy stroked her artificial hair he noticed the stench coming from his sister who lay several feet away. He knew it was urineâhe had heard her bladder release when he struck the final deadly blow. He had hit her once more for good measureâshe killed Peg. He had every right.
Carefully, he let Pegâs head rest on the carpet. Bending down, he kissed her cheek and wiped some sticky stuff from her rubber lip. Mom had told him before not to touch Peg or to make the nasty in her mouth, but he couldnât help it. He loved her too much just to leave her be. If Mom found out he was doing the nasty then she would take Peg away, like beforeâhe would have to find her too.
As Teddy went back to Angieâs body he stopped for a moment to marvel at her nudity. He had always watched her dress from the closet, but he had never seen her thing up close. He was fascinated by the dark tuft of hair between her legsâPeg didnât have that. Cautiously he touched her thigh, and jerked away as if her flesh were hot. It wasnât, though. In fact, she was starting to get cold. It had been four hours.
âI hate you,â he informed her cadaver eyes.
Again he touched her thigh, but this time he didnât pull away. Gently, he ran his fingertips up her hip and toward her crotch. With the other hand, he pulled her muscled legs apart. Between them was a puddle of urine the size of a pancake. He gave her genitals a curious poke. She was much softer than Peg, and waitâalthough her body was cold and pallid, she was warm inside. He was getting excited by her macabre sexual divinity.
He had to stopâMother would be upset if he was doing the nasty. She hated the nasty; Dad had found that out the hard way. All she liked was sewing and watching Family Feud. She loved that Richard Dawson guy.
But she was so yielding, so doughy. Pegâs skin was hard and waxy insideâheâd had her for ten years (when he was eighteen he ordered her from a dirty magazine). Angie was only five then, and now she had matured into a beautiful young woman. He really didnât hate her that much but she shouldnât have killed Peg. He was only watching her shower. It was nothing new. But she would have told Mother, Mother couldnât stand for that kind of filth in her house. Thatâs why he had to hide Peg in the first place. Mother was so old-fashioned; he had to hide a lot from Mother.
Going to the garage, he fetched a spade and began digging in the garden. He had to finish before she got home.
The soil was tender, and it took but a half hour
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