I made a tourniquet for Marceaux’s arm. There was nothing I could do about his abdomen.
I grabbed a bucket and placed it near the edge of the sofa to catch some of the blood.
We had cleaners for this type of situation They would appreciate the bucket.
Someone who didn’t know, if someone happened to be watching through the window, they’d be screaming “call an ambulance you idiot!”
But I couldn’t.
It was part of the pact, the deal. We called it the game, but it wasn’t ever a game.
The guy who stabbed Marceaux didn’t need to stab him. I think he knew it. He was built like a bison and an animated locomotive procreated a human.
The blade just made it quicker.
He got what he wanted.
He knew what was in the package.
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