Page 3 of The Carnage We Keep

“That’s not what I’m saying at all, Britney,” she says with a soft, unhurried smile. “No one is debating whether someone who would harm a child is objectively bad. What I’m asking is, do you feel those heinous actions merit⁠—”

“Dying horribly and painfully in cartoonishly elaborate ways?” I snort. “Uh, yeah.”

“And you feel that it’s your responsibility to carry out that sentencing?”

I laugh. “That makes it sound like a chore. Believe me, I fucking get off on it.”

Dr. Fallon looks at me with the patience of a saint as I grin widely.

“Let's talk about the homicidal ideation you experienced last week.”

“Homicidal activity.”

She cocks a brow. “Ideation.”

“Oh, I definitely did more than ideate.”

Dr. Fallon shoots me a “please don’t” look.

“In any case…” I exhale. “I doubt you want to hear the details. Super messy.”

She lifts her shoulders. “It might help give me a sense of what’s going through your head before, during and after, in terms of processing⁠—”

“Hey, speaking of processing…I swear this is relevant to your question about last week…did you know that a human body can be liquified down enough to fit into thirty-two orange juice jugs?” I grin widely. “Some pulp included,” I snort.

Dr. Fallon’s tight smile wavers for a second as a green tinge floods her cheeks.

“Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?” she asks brightly.

“You mean anything besides commercial juicing and packaging?”

My poor therapist clears her throat, swallowing back her nausea. “You’ve mentioned being in college. How’s that going?”

“Eh,” I shrug.

“Making friends?”

“What, and throw off your antisocial personality disorder diagnosis by being, you know, social?”

She smiles. “Romantic relationships?”

“Hah,” I bark.

She shrugs. “What about strictly sexual ones?”

I grin. “Why, Mrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?”

She sighs heavily and gives me a look.

“Currently celibate as a nun,” I say dryly.

She nods. “I know we’ve only touched briefly on your childhood trauma. But it can be hard to explore adult sexual relationships when⁠—”

I loudly stuff the last two Cheetos in my mouth and crunch them as I ball up the foil bag.

“Well, doc,” I sigh, standing. “Your meter is running and my vats of acid await.”

Dr. Fallon eyes me a moment.