Gasoline
Gasoline
They could not have found his torched body, fragments of Renee’s georgette dress wrapped around. He had changed. He had physically altered his body; steroids and alcohol took away the sweet light in his eyes.
Now blue pinstripe suits and facial hair. He was obsessed with making sure she knew he was a man. His teeth were replaced with implants. “Disgusting,” he would chide. No more incessant pleasure from a pain that only comes when skin gets stuck someplace it shouldn’t.
Renee is sutured at the center —thick stitches stretching to contain entrails exploding from the casing of her body.
