And then, I imagine getting back in my car and ramming it into the side of the diner. Straight through the window. Ben’s body sprawled out on my hood. “Hitting him with your car is bo-ring,” the voice whispers in my ear. “Put your hands around his neck until you can feel the life drain out of him. That’d be fun, right? He probably deserves it. They always deserve it. Let’s kill—” Shut up, I tell the voice calmly.
