There's a garden trowel sticking out of his fucking eye socket buried far enough that the jelly-like eyeball has oozed out and his brain matter is starting to show. I stare over at him and then I see D'Ardo. Skinny little fucking thing, all arms and cheekbones, but his eyes are fucking clear and sure. He knew what he was doing and this is an olive branch, a gesture of friendship. I take it. I take it because even my own worthless father didn't throw down like that for me, no one had done that shit for me since my mom was hacked to pieces.
