The look on my face was obvious: I had no idea what to think. I stared in bewilderment at the photos of Michigan, totally erased off the face of the earth. In fact, her face in itself was entirely erased, and spilled out onto my bedroom floor. Taz watched as my eyes darted back and forth, trying to fully comprehend what he was showing me. But there was no making sense of this. Michigan may not have been a saint, but she deserved better than what had been done to her.
What Johnny had done to her.
I couldn’t look at it anymore. My stomach was in knots and I felt pale as the blood quickly rushed out of my head. Everything started to blur and I closed my eyes, trying to stay alert.
“Get those away from me.” I had given myself away. Taz knew that my stomach could handle just about anything, and if by chance it couldn’t, it meant that something was seriously wrong. But at this point I figured that maybe it was better to cooperate with him a little, now that I knew it was my friend that Johnny massacred.
He looked me over, already knowing the answer to his inquiry. “So you did know her?” It was more of a statement than a question. I watched as Taz ran his index finger over the photo of what used to be Michigan’s skull. I fought my bowels from exploding, half expecting the gore littering the images to seep out onto his skin.