Chapter Three: Flushed

She was jus' sittin' on the sofa, I could have killed her then, but I din't want to, no sir. She was far too purty lookin'.

:::Shooter you god damn son of a bitch!:::

(Now now, Mr. Rainey. Calm down.)

:::If you hurt her Shooter I swear to God I'll. . .:::

(I ain't gonna hurt her Mr. Rainey. I might need her.)

:::You sick fuck!:::

(I ain't gonna do that either.) It didn't take long for her to wake up, and when she saw my hat she ran. (You shouldn't have told her 'bout my hat, Mr. Rainey. I might have to hurt her now.)

:::I don't think so Shooter. You'll never see her again.:::

(How can you bee so sure 'bout that, Mr. Rainey? You gonna take those drugs of yours? You gonna take those drugs I've flushed down the toilet into the lake?)

:::You bastard Shooter!:::

(Clementine. . .)

:::It's Clementine, dumbass. There's an e on the end so it pronounced I.:::

(Clementine's gone Mr. Rainey. She knows you haven't been takin' your pills, and she knows you won't never take 'em. And I kinda like it like this, jus' you and me, Mr. Rainey. Jus' you and me.)