Hidden Bodies (You #2)

by Caroline Kepnes

I “Like” Fast & Furious to establish myself as a fun guy

these flowers are the botanical equivalent of breast implants.

His eyes are too close together. At some point, someone in his bloodline fucked someone he wasn’t supposed to fuck and the genes were compromised.

“Oh and you better go to the DMV and register,” he says. “Fuckers like you, showing up here, refusing to register with the state, you’re no better than the beaners who think they can just come on over here and take our jobs.” Officer Robin Fincher spits at me as he gets into his cruiser with my headphones and I picture me joining forces with all the mentally delayed Americans and all the undocumented Mexican workers.

And before you know it, I’m fucking Don’t Fuck Delilah.

It’s a special thing, when someone who can’t tell a story tries.

Not all messy people are geniuses. Some are just messy.

I grab her extensions and smash her head into the tub and that’s it. No more tears. Blood trickles down her forehead. I was right. She isn’t beautiful. She was pretty. And I don’t feel sorry for her. It’s like they say about everything in this world. You can’t feel sorry for yourself. A lot of girls, they would have loved to be so pretty.

This bitch just stares at me. “Do . . . you . . . speak . . . English?” she asks. NO, BUT I SPEAK CUNT.

“Love,” I say. I’ve never harmed an animal; I can’t imagine being that sort of monster.

Liars lie and I can’t betray Love and families do this. Each person gets to invent a history, a version of the injustices, the pets, the names.

Beck never loved me either and if Love knew about this, the dark humiliating truth of it, that I love women who don’t love me back, I don’t know how I could look her in the eye. I don’t know if I could go on, because the real horror of my life is not that I’ve killed some terrible people. The real horror is that the people I’ve loved didn’t love me back.

She is not like me, not like Love. She is not burdened with a sensitive heart. Hers just beats.

I was very good at killing people when I needed to be. Was. The past tense. I’m retired.