In Laymon's Terms

“What’s the world coming to,” Bill said, “when you can’t count on your invisible friends in a pinch? A sorry state of affairs, that’s what I think.”

“Don’t,” she said. “Please.”

Gritting her teeth, she watched the tip of the knife scratch a line down the top of her left breast. She jerked when it nicked the tip of her nipple. A speck of blood, very bright red, bloomed, then disappeared.

Vanished between Bill’s lips.

He licked. He sucked. He moaned and sucked harder, drawing her small breast deep into his mouth as his right hand came up and shoved the entire five-inch blade of the knife into his own right eye.

The impact shoved his head back.

Charlie’s breast popped out of his mouth.

Behind her, fat Tom let out an odd, high-pitched laugh as if he figured his buddy was pulling some sort of a weird stunt with the knife.

“Hey,” he said.

Bill said nothing. Mouth wide open, he stumbled backward two steps, three, with the black-taped handle of the knife sticking out of his face.

“What’re you doing?” Tom asked.

Bill fell flat on his back. As he lay twitching on the ground, Tom let go of Charlie’s wrists and hooked an arm across her throat. He squeezed her tightly against him, his belly forcing her back to bend, his chin above her left ear.

“Fucking shit!” he gasped. “Bill? What the fuck? Bill? Why’d you go and do that?”

Bill, no longer twitching, answered with a loud, moist farting noise.

“Shit!”

The knife began to rise. Its blade slid upward, pulling slowly out of the bloody mess in Bill’s eye socket.

“Oh, hey,” Tom said.

The knife came the rest of the way out. It lingered motionless above Bill’s face. Blood dripping from the blade made soft splashes in the socket puddle.

“Oh, hey, shit.”

“Herman,” Charlie groaned out.

“No way. Huh-uh. Bullshit.”

“Let...me...go.”

The knife drifted higher. Higher and higher as if it were being offered, pommel first, to someone on a tree branch above Bill’s body.

Arm still tight across Charlie’s throat, Tom started backing away. His belly shoved at her back, forcing her feet off the ground. She started to choke.

Eight or nine feet above Bill’s face, the knife’s rise halted.

Charlie, being hustled backward by her throat, kicked her legs and flapped her arms and choked.

The knife flew at her.

Or at Tom.

Tumbling blade over hilt, flinging off a wispy spray of blood.

It struck with a thunk above and just to the side of Charlie’s left ear.

Tom went, “Uh!”

His arm jerked against her throat. He dropped backward.

Charlie followed him down, riding the soft hill of his belly. It sank in when she landed. Air blew out of him.

Legs still kicking at the sky, Charlie shoved his arm away from her throat. Then she flung herself off his body. She crawled clear and scurried to her feet before turning around for a look.

Where the knife should have been sticking out of Tom’s forehead, he had a red mark the size of a quarter.

The size of a knife’s pommel.

Gasping for breath, Charlie rubbed her throat and grimaced. She stepped closer to Tom.

His big white belly moved up and down with his breathing.

His eyes were shut.

He still had his boots on, but his jeans were down around his shins. He was very white and lumpy. He looked like an effigy made from loaves of uncooked bread dough that had been basted with oil.

She glanced at his thing. Wrinkling her nose, she turned away fast. “Herman?” she asked.

“Yo.”

The voice came from straight in front of Charlie, but somewhat higher than her head.

“Thanks,” she said.

“My pleasure.”

“But jeez, you sure took your time about it.”

“Well...Better late than never. Right?”

She shook her head. “You let them hurt me.”

“I know. I’m awfully sorry. I truly am.”

“Why didn’t you stop them? I mean, jeez!”

Herman didn’t answer.

“Didn’t you see that guy slug me?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you destroy him right then?”

“I...I was curious, I suppose.”

“Curious? What do you mean, curious?”

“I wanted to see what they had in mind.”

“Jeez, wasn’t that pretty obvious? I mean, by the time fatso stripped me, it should’ve been pretty...”

“I’m afraid I was...rather caught up in the situation.”

“You what?”

He hesitated for a few seconds, then said, “I...wanted to watch.”

“Watch?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Oh, isn’t that wonderful. I thought you were supposed to be a gentleman.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Oh, Charlie. I’ve always...I’ve never spied on you. I’ve always left the room whenever you...needed privacy. But...I don’t know. I’m so sorry. The thing is, you’re not quite the child you used to be, and I’m afraid that I...I should’ve intervened much sooner. I know that. I just couldn’t quite force myself...you’re so beautiful, Charlie.”

“Oh, man.”

“Do you hate me?”

She scowled. “No. Don’t be dumb. I could never hate you. But...you let that guy actually...cut me.” She touched the small slit on her nipple and showed Herman the blood on her fingertip. “See?”

“Yes. I see. Can you...will you forgive me?”

She licked the blood off her finger. “Maybe.”

“Please, Charlie.”

“You’ve got to kiss it and make it well,” she said.