Dead to Me

Dead to Me
By Michael P. Ferrari

“Thanks for taking me to work,” Jeanine finally said. She felt the last of her aggravation steaming from her system. Finally relaxed, she reached over and kissed her fiancé, Derek, for taking her to work. Lucky for her, the sweet, lanky dentist who was going to marry her in a few months had some time to kill between his patients. One of the perks of marrying a dentist, she assured herself.

“So…the repo man didn’t tell you why he was towing your car?”

“Ugh…” Jeanine felt a molten bubbling in her stomach by just trying to remember the hour-long argument she just had with the repo man. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“What about your cell? You going to call about that?” Derek asked, reflections of the road in front of him playing on the lenses of his glasses like a drive-in movie. He looked at Jeanine with a modest smile after every statement, standard procedure for when she was either pissed off or PMSing.

“I tried but there was, like, a 45 minute wait to talk to somebody. I’ll just take it to the Verizon guy in the mall on my break.” She kept her head turned from Derek, her face aimed out the passenger window. Just like Derek learned how to behave to avoid problems when she was feeling pissy, so did she, keeping turned away so that she’d never have a chance to take her emotions out on him. It was a weird, unspoken operation that was solid proof of why they clicked so well as a couple.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” he suggested. “I think your phone was deactivated.”

“How do you know?” Her head turned, her eyes displayed confusion.

“When I switched providers last year, the same thing happened to my phone.”

“Why would they shut off my phone?”

“Are you up on your payments?”

“Should be…” she answered prematurely before actually taking time to think about it. “My parents and I are still on a shared plan. I should call and see if theirs are turned off too. I need to talk to them about my car getting repo’d anyway.”

“What would they know about your car?” Derek wasn’t looking at her, busy mustering enough concentration to show off some parallel parking in front of Jeanine’s office building.

“My dad co-signed on it when I was in college. Maybe he heard something?”

“Maybe. Give it a shot.” Derek stared at her through the thin lenses covering his eyes. Jeanine locked her head facing him, her eyes yo-yoing up and down from his thin- lipped mouth to his light blue eyes to his reseeding platinum hair.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” His response, like her statement, was too solid to be faked. Small bubbles of tears swelled at the bottom of his eyes when he said it, and right then Jeanine was reassured that he was the one.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, moved.

“Nothing,” he replied. “I just really care for you.” A small smirk extended on his face. Two minutes of kissing punctuated their sentiments before Jeanine finally left the car, her hand being dragged from Derek’s, surprised to realize she’d been holding it this whole time.

*    *    *

“I think I should tell Derek,” Jeanine softly shared with Maura, the co-worker that’s turned into a sister in the past three years they’ve worked together. Today, like many days before, featured the two girls—almost identical, except for Maura’s darker complexion, taller height and the fitter body that she earned in countless spinning classes—mowing through salads on their lunch break.

“Tell him what?” Maura peered across the tiny break room table and offered her curious eyes towards Jeanine.

“About…” Jeanine stopped, reconsidering even finishing the sentence, “about what happened at Julie’s bachelorette party four months ago.” Her shared moment with Derek in the car had Jeanine sealed in guilt and jumbled nerves, her regret igniting in her gut as she rehashed broken memories from the night. Even now, she barely remembers the round of tequila shots that were enough to wipe her catatonic, but she did remember his simple name—John—and the trouble the two of them had sneaking away from the rest of the group after she met him and had what she told him was “the best conversation of my life.” She remembered sneaking with him into the bar’s upstairs banquet hall, empty and dark enough to cloud her memories of any conversation that may have happened. Too bad she couldn’t forget the rest. Too bad she couldn’t forget him forced against her, too bad she couldn’t forget him being in her mouth and elsewhere. Too bad she forgot she was engaged at the time.

“Are you friggin’ serious?!” Maura’s reaction was enough to shake Jeanine out of her memories before the tears kicked in.

“I think I am…”

“No!” Maura demanded. “Do you know what that’ll do to him? Let alone your wedding in the not-too-distant future??”

“Do you know what it’ll do if I don’t tell him?”

“Look, I know this is killing you, but trust me, if you tell him, it will destroy him!”

“Then what am I supposed to do?!” Jeanine sobbed, tears cresting the corner of her eyes. “I could barely look at him all morning!”

“Okay,” Maura was compassionate when she spoke, yet strangely bobbing to her side to look and watch for intruders from the door behind Jeanine. “Are you seriously thinking about this?”

“What is there to think about?”

“The fact that telling him may be the noble thing, but it’s not the right thing.”

“How is it not the right thing?!” Jeanine’s voice was whiny and cracked, causing Maura to raise her hand, silently willing her friend to calm.

“Ignorance is bliss, Jeanine. He doesn’t know, and couldn’t be happier. You really think that by telling him about it things will actually be better?”

“He’s got to know something’s off…” Jeanine’s voice was weakening; drowning in sobs and gasped breaths.

“At least wait until you’re married.”

“Wha…?”

“Once you’re married, you guys will have that…you know…bond. You’re stressing out from planning the wedding and everything. Wait until the dust settles. If you have to tell him, be smart about it.”

“Yeah, okay…” Jeanine’s tears and emotions over her infidelity were quickly replaced by the self-pity that came with so easily being shaken of her convictions. Her gut held the truth about Maura, and how wrong she is about the situation. Her relationships are typically short and involve other women’s boyfriends, Jeanine thought. Adultery meant nothing to Maura, who once had Jeanine laughing with a story about how she sprained her ankle sneaking out of a married man’s window. Still, Maura was, in that cliché fashion, so wrong that she had to be right. Marriage is all about trust and bonds and acceptance. If she had to tell Derek—which she knew she did—their relationship would probably be at least salvageable if she did it after marriage.

“Hey,” Maura’s compassionate whisper and generous hand softly draped over Jeanine’s was enough to snap her out of her thoughts. “We’ll get through this. You’re not alone.”

“I know.”

“Face it: you’re stuck with me, but at least I can bail you out every now and again.”

“Ha…I know,” Jeanine’s lips cracked into a smile while her hands towed away globs of tears and runny mascara.

“We should probably get back to work…”

“Yeah, I know…”

“Is that all you say?” Maura pulled some sarcasm over her voice, trying to raise Jeanine’s smile. “If you know so damn much, then why are you asking me for help?”

“Ha…shut up,” Jeanine said with a snort and a sniffle. She felt gross before she realized how safe she was from embarrassment while Maura was around. “I gotta go back to my office anyway. I need to call about my car and cell.”

“Good luck with all that,” Maura said. “I don’t envy you one bit on that one.”

*    *    *

The fact that her parents haven’t called her in two weeks didn’t really startle Jeanine until she picked up the phone and realized she was as guilty as they were. Between planning the wedding and the quintessential long hours that come with being a successful business woman in her mid-twenties, she’s barely had a chance to even think about calling, let alone actually do it. The one time she did call in the past week led to her leaving a voicemail for them that would never be returned. The fact that she lived two hours away didn’t help either. The tension of going so long without the typical parent conversations–complete with template questions like “how’s work?”, “when are you going to visit?” and the ever-popular “when can we expect grandkids?”–actually made dialing the phone a little easier.

Jeanine’s fingers hop-scotched along the keypad instinctively without even looking, giving her eyes enough free time to habitually dart back and forth to make sure her boss wasn’t around. The clicking on the other end of the line shook her attention back to the phone.

“Hell…Hello?” The woman’s voice sounded weak and crackled, shooting worry into Jeanine’s heart once she realized she just heard only a shattered husk of her mother’s voice.

“Hey, Mom. It’s me…is everything alright?” Jeanine stopped breathing at the end of the sentence, anxious for a response. “Mom? Everything okay?”

“Oh, my Go…!” The phone clicked as her mother’s voice choked and gurgled on the words.

“The hell…?” Jeanine said, simply looking at her headset before putting it up to her ear and tapping out the number again.

No answer. The answering machine came on, her mother’s recorded voice sounding like a dreaded ray of sunshine, the glowing, Skittle-sweet tone serving as a cruel contrast to how horrible she sounded only seconds ago. The beep came and went without Jeanine even expecting it.

“Um, Mom? If you can hear this, please pick up. I don’t know what happened just now, but you really have me worried. Please pick up, I know you’re there.” A deep breath escaped her mouth, the only calming action that prevented her from falling into worried tears. “Please, Mom, or Dad, please just pick up and let me know what’s going on.” Another deep breath and dead, recording silence on the other end of the phone left Jeanine with little left to say. “Please, just call me on my work phone and let me know you’re okay? You’re really freaking me out right now…” She wanted to say more, but common sense kicked in and reminded her she was talking to a machine. She let the phone go and sat, arms crossed, staring it down. Her toes and fingers got eager before the rest of her body, and starting tapping away while she continued looking through the phone. A year went by in 40 seconds, and she snatched up the phone for a second try, greeted again by a chipper recording of her mother.

“Uh, it’s me again. Seriously, I’m really worried right now. If this is some kind of emergency or something, please, at least call and let me know you’re still alive. Please, I just…”

The phone clicked just before she could finish.

“Who the hell is this?!” A man growled, his voice blistering with rage. Jeanine’s father, and he might as well have breathed fire into her ears.

“Dad, it’s me. Is mom okay?!”

“Who the hel is this?!”

“Daddy, I…”

“Is this some kind of joke?! Who the fuck are you?!?! I want to know who the fuck is doing this!!” Anger twisted his voice into loud sandpaper, burning Jeanine’s ear’s and shredding her heart.

“Daddy, it’s me! What’s wrong…”

“What kind of person are you?!”

“I…”

“What kind of person does this? Are you some kind of sociopath?!”

“What are…”

“My wife and I buried our only daughter a week ago! What kind of monster…” the malice in his voice drowning in restrained sobs. His yells become extinguished under tears; a soft whimper was left behind.

“What kind of monster would do this to us?” Jeanine’s head floated over her shoulders, her neck the only tether keeping it attached. Her bottom lip turned to ice, numb and hanging off of her jaw. “My only daughter,” her father whimpered under sobs.

“I…” Jeanine was empty. Her mind, her heart, empty.

“Just leave us alone, you sick fuck. Just leave us and my daughter’s memory alone while you burn in hell.”

The only burning Jeanine realized was nestled in the pit of her stomach, not wasting any time in flinging itself upwards and out her mouth. Jeanine was too shocked by the fact she was vomiting. A little squirted between her lips in the time it took for her to find a trashcan.

*    *    *

“Careful,” Maura warned, holding Jeanine by her elbow, gliding her gently into her and Derek’s apartment. Jeanine turned into a zombie. She succumbed to the irrationality of the situation, let it mix with her guilt and frayed nerves leftover from her and Maura’s conversation at lunch. It was easy for her to get out of work on a sick day.

“I need to get home,” fell out of Jeanine’s cold, pale lips. “I don’t know what happened, but my parents are melting down over this.”

“Over a dumb mistake, probably.”

“They said they buried me,” Jeanine came to her senses, some color flushing back to her face as she said it.

“How could they bury someone they thought was me?”

“That’s the million-dollar question,” Maura didn’t look up at her while she threw together a pool of throw pillows in the corner of the couch. “Sit,” she demanded. Jeanine listened with a plop.

“I need to get home.” This time, it came out with conviction.

“But you don’t have a car,” Maura reminded her. “Don’t worry: Derek said he has a few more appointments, and then he’d come to take care of you,”

“I need to go now,” Jeanine responded. “Dumb mix up or not, I need to make sure my parents are okay.”

“Tomorrow, hun,” Maura insisted. “Derek can take you tomorrow after you rest this off a little.”

“I can’t rest this off. I need to go now.”

“Hun, the only thing you’re doing now is getting some rest while you’re waiting for your fiancé to get home.” In the brief moments of rationality that passed briskly through Jeanine’s mind, she knew Maura was right. Her system was in shock. She was going to need to be healthy for the potential ordeal of showing up at her parents’ house like some kind of ghost.

“I just don’t get it. How could they mistake me for dead? Without even calling me?”

“I don’t know, sweety. But that probably has something to do with your car and phone problems. You should call payroll at some point and make sure your paycheck doesn’t get caught up in this mess too, hun.” Maura was being particularly affectionate, dropping a lot of ‘sweetys’ and ‘huns.’ “But it’ll work out. Tomorrow, you guys will figure it out, and you’ll be fine, and your parents will be fine, and I can joke about this during my maid of honor speech.”

“I know. I’m just worried.”
Maura crouched next to Jeanine, her eyes sliding halfway down as she gazed on her friend. She left her eyes on Jeanine while she slipped her hands into her purse with a shuffle. Her fingers netted a small, orange prescription bottle, the little white cap staring at Jeanine through her fingers.

“I’ve got these left over from my flight to Houston last month. Grabbed them off my desk before we left. Figured you might need them.” Maura’s eyes shifted into soft, wide orbs as she cracked a smile and shook the bottle. “Xanax. Knocks me out for the whole plane ride.”

“No…” Jeanine whined.

“Hey, listen! You need to relax. Both of us know you’re not going to be able to get any sleep while you have all this on your mind.”

“I don’t want to sleep.”

“But you need to!” Maura protested. “Seriously, just take a couple so you can rest while you’re waiting for Derek.” Her request was greeted with protest, Jeanine’s eyes squinting and forming a coup against Maura.

“Please? I’m begging you.”

“Alright,” Jeanine said, realizing now her eyes were squinting more from exhaustion than spite.

“Atta girl.” Maura twisted the cap off and spilled a few randomly colored pills into her hand.

“Why are they all different colors,” Jeanine’s voice carried an innocence that led Maura to smile.

“Variety pack,” she responded. “Here. I’ll get you some water.”

“No need,” Jeanine said, her hand making a popping noise at it clapped against her mouth, knocking her head back.

“Alright then,” Maura stood up with a smile. She watched as Jeanine let her upper body go slack, crashing into the pool of pillows while her feet remained loosely attached to the floor. “I’m going to get back to the office. Call me when you wake up, okay?”

“Maura?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I know,” she said, lowering her head down and delivering a full kiss to Jeanine’s forehead. “I love you too,” she whispered before sneaking out of the door.

Jeanine’s eyes twinkled and twitched as they fought to stay open. She wasn’t ready to sleep, wasn’t ready to wait this out. She had to find out more. She had to figure this out. Her thin legs, normally as nimble as chopsticks, were now feeling like thick, clumpy bags of sand. Her back was stiffer than plaster, but her neck had nothing in it to hold her head straight. Maura’s pills were kicking in hard…harder than they should be. I’m going to die, I’m going to go into a coma and die, Jeanine thought. Her rationality slipped off like an over-sized shoe, and if her body had enough strength, she would have made time to flip out. She did realize, however, that her time was short before she passed out, and if there was one thing she needed to do before she gathered some rest, it was find a way to the truth. Maybe not find the truth yet, but at least find the right direction towards the truth, she thought, just something to go on, something to think about. This thought echoed through her head on repeat while she forced herself up, and while she threw each of her weighted legs in an attempt to walk. Her balance was for shit, but the hallway leading to her bedroom was narrow, and the walls gave her something for balancing and bouncing. Those pills shouldn’t be working like this, she thought again.

Jeanine was able to focus on her computer desk–her current goal–but wobbling over there on heavy, weak knees made it feel like she was escaping quicksand. She was able to crash into the soft, spinning desk chair, its plump, black, fake-leather padding soaking in a lot of the impact from the fall.

She was blessed with enough of her thoughts to fire up the Internet and found herself trying to reach the homepage of The Gazette, her hometown newspaper. It took her three tries to correctly enter her name into the Gazette’s Website search browser. The first link that came up sported her full name, her age and a clear path to the Website’s obituary section. She locked eyes with herself as a picture from her engagement announcement–sans a cropped-out Derek–popped up on the screen. Her eyes felt like fluid as she tried to swish them across the tiny, glowing text. Everything went blank before she could even figure out her cause of death.

*    *    *

“Your hair smells so beautiful,” the hushed, raspy voice etched whispers into Jeanine’s ear as she awoke. Even if she did recognize the male voice, she was far too groggy to be able to place it. “I’m glad you’re not struggling. I hope you stay that way. It’ll make things that much easier when I tear your heart out of your chest.”

Jeanine felt her eyelids lighten. She opened them in just enough time to catch the voice walking away from her. His bareback dazzled with a smear of sweat that reflected the minimal lighting of the room. He was half-dressed, a pair of torn up jeans and flip flops were the only thing covering him. He slowly walked upright in the most casual fashion, the way someone window-shopping in the mall might stroll.

She started to squirm as she realized her body was covered in duct tape, head-to-toe in a mummy-style wrapping. She was rested in an easy chair, ducted taped once again to ensure she’d stay attached and upright. The room was too dark to make out any features, the only light coming from a hanging lamp with a dull blue blacklight bulb. The walls were covered in plastic that made the place indistinguishable. She sat in the sole piece of furniture the tiny room contained. The only other contents were a small trey table that the haunting voice was perched and working over, and a long, plush, throw rug set right in front of Jeanine like a stage.

“I’m not telling you where we are, so don’t ask,” the voice said to her, quiet and authoritative. “And as for the who, what, why and how,” he said softly, turning around and showing Jeanine his familiar thin-lipped mouth, his light-blue eyes and his reseeding platinum hair. “Well, we’ll get to those next.”

“D…Derek…?” Jeanine was lost in a dream, she thought, until her heart started pounding hard enough to make the duct tape around her chest lightly pulsate.

“That’s one question out of the way,” he said, completely turning to face her, a syringe in his rubber glove-clad hands.

Jeanine felt heat and sensation all over her body for the first time since she was in her office. The feelings were rewarded with speechless confusion.

“I’m glad you’re staying quiet. This is hard enough as it is.” He paced towards her, charging at an exposed fleshy section of her left forearm with the syringe. “This is a mild sedative. It’s going to slow you down.” He glared at the fine wrapping job he did with the duct tape, a small smile on his face. “Not like we need to worry about it.”

“Derek…hunnie…what are you doing?” Fear clogged her throat, she could barely yell, but she tried. “Answer me!!”

“You’re angry and scared, but if you keep quiet, this’ll end pretty quickly.”

“Please…baby…untie me. Let me know what’s happening…”
He pulled the empty syringe out of Jeanine’s vein too quick for her to notice. His attention darted towards her, his eyes somehow brightened by the low light of the room. “Okay,” he answered.

“Please,” Jeanine chocked once more while pleading. “Whatever’s wrong, we can fix it…tell me what’s happening…”

“We can’t fix anything. We’re already too broken.”

“What…?”

“Us. You and I. We’re broken. And there’s not enough superglue in the world to put us back together as we were.”

“What are you…”

“I’m the reason your parents think you’re dead.” Derek’s face stayed stiff and calm. He took a knee beside her, made their eyes meet. “I killed a young woman your age, charred the corpse beyond recognition, and made it a point to make it resemble you so that most of your loved ones thought you were dead.” A small smile slipped from his lips as he stood up and walked back from to his trey table. “I got the idea from a movie. I replaced the corpse’s teeth with dentures to resemble your dental records. It was a bitch of a task, but at the time, I thought it was the only way of covering my tracks. I figured if they found what they thought was your dead body, they wouldn’t bother looking for the real one if you were missing.”
Jeanine’s head bobbed back and forth, swirling in circles as she tried to keep it upright. Whatever he shot her up with, it was kicking in. She was happy to not know what was going on, figuring she’d be sick if she did. She was fortunate that confusion was blocking her other emotions.

“What…what are you talking about?” She could hear a squeaking–almost like a mouse–coming from behind her.

“I was going to kill you, Jeanine. I still might, I haven’t decided.”
Jeanine’s empty stomach flexed and pumped bile out of her mouth. She shook, from both nerves and the chill caused by cold tears running down her face. She sobbed inaudibly. Derek smiled once more.

“I have no idea what it must feel like to not only hear someone say that, but to realize how likely it really is.”

“WHY?!” Jeanine finally shrieked through tears. “What the fuck is the matter with you?! What the…” Jeanine was silenced by more ducted tape, her fear and panic turning into only muffled moans.

“I was going to kill you,” Derek said slowly, “because you already killed me.” Jeanine stared up at him, her eyes half open, worn out and held up with just panic. The squeaking started again…a little louder, but somehow muffled. “I know what you did to me. I know what you did to our relationship.” Jeanine set her pondering eyes on Derek, her face covered in a teary, snotty, sweaty glaze. “I found out about how you shared yourself with another man.”

Jeanine’s body shook, then started hurling itself. She tried to scream, but the duct tape gag and a new batch of vomit trapped in her mouth blocked her voice almost completely. Derek ripped the tape off of her mouth, turning it into a cascading, chunk-filled, yellow-orange waterfall.

“Yeah, that’s how I felt too when I found out.” A touch of remorse hung in his voice. He playfully slapped her mouth hard enough to remove the thick film of saliva and puke before wrapping the tape back to her mouth. Jeanine heard the squeaking again, so much closer this time. “I was honestly set on killing you when I found out. That’s why I made such an effort to cover my tracks with your fake corpse. That poor girl I killed. She was just a hooker, but I still feel bad about it. You should too, really. I did it because of what you did to me. A girl died because you couldn’t keep your knees and lips together. Think about that.”

Jeanine’s eyes were filled with water, shaded red by her blood-shot veins. She breathed heavy, muted sobs with every bit of energy she had left. She could feel her insides tearing, and for a moment, she was convinced that somebody was cutting into her. The squeaking behind her got louder with every sob.

“But I couldn’t kill you,” Derek explained. “God help me, I tried too. I really did.” Derek pulled some more short strips of duct tape from the roll, pulling hard to make an extra audible experience from the sticky tearing noise for which duct tape is known. “It seems rash, I know, but you have no idea what that did to me.” His voice was louder, aggressive. He spoke more in grunts than words. “You have no idea what it was like to watch you sleep knowing that underneath your halo lays a dirty, deceptive, deceitful whore.”

Derek reached for her. His skeletal fingers trembled and jittered while he pulled on her eyelash, yanking it upwards. Jeanine couldn’t see the details, only his hands floating above her eye. Her toes were the only thing that could jerk and wretch with the awkward discomfort that came with her eyelids being flipped inside out. Derek applied the tape to her inside-out eyelid, tacking the other end to her brow just above.

Jeanine tried to fidget and wiggle her legs. She tried to scream. She tried to pray. She tried everything she could and sobbed and groaned even more as each attempt failed. The squeaking turned to a giggling, and Jeanine finally realized her and Derek haven’t been alone. That didn’t scare her as much as it did when she recognized the giggle.

“I believe you met Maura, my lovely accomplish,” Derek said, brushing his hands clean, as Maura walked out from behind with a skirt, high-heels and a Vanna White strut.

“I’m sorry I told him, hun,” Maura’s words were simple, direct and with a smile that sliced open Jeanine’s heart.

“She was the only one willing to be truthful in our relationship,” Derek said, smiling, snaking his arm around Maura’s waste and inhaling her presence as he pulled her closer.

“You of all people know I’m a sucker for men with rings.” Maura was so clean and blunt; Jeanine’s insides melted.

Derek leaned in and smelled Jeanine’s hair. She pissed herself without him knowing, but her hair still pushed off that flowery scent that stuck to his heart since the first time they kissed.

“You literally took my soul, Jeanine. You broke me open and took my soul.” He randomly pulled a long knife, previously hidden, from the small of his back. “I don’t want to kill you, but I will if I need to.” A single tear rappelled down his face. “Either way, I’m still going to tear your heart out.” He lobbed the knife casually on the arm of her chair, making a point to keep the blade turned away. Jeanine might be able to reach it if she had enough wits to get her arm free. Derek slumped away, his jeans slowly sliding off his legs.

Maura, almost oblivious to everything else, unfastened the sole button on her hip that held up her skirt. She was ghostly when she bent in towards Jeanine and pressed a simple kiss on her check, brushing her lips to her ear, and whispering one last stab:

“I told you it’d destroy him if he found out.”

She was sure to sway her bare hips as she walked towards Derek, now naked. Her tongue went deep into his mouth, both pressing into each hard with loud, deep exhalations. Maura left her smiling eyes set on Jeanine who, unable to scream or bawl or even close her eyes, could only groan in pain.

“Ahem,” Maura said it extra loud for emphasis. “Now, if I remember right, that little soiree with you and John started like this…” She fell to her knees with a smile, and Derek—eyes closed, face blank—simply turned his head towards Jeanine and cracked a decadent grin.

Jeanine watched. She watched and tried to give into the shock her brain was delivering to her body. She tried to give into fainting. She tried to give into death. There was no point in praying or hoping for help from anyone. The only two people who didn’t think she was dead were shattering her very being. She could physically feel herself being torn from the inside, as if someone were actually tearing out her heart while two of the people she loved the most obliterated her existence.

“We’re going to re-enact everything you did to hurt me,” Derek said without flinching his satisfied voice. “After that, who knows what else we’ll do to each other…and you…”

The End