After Kimberley bit my nose, I let her go. It was bleeding copiously. I'd have to explain to my wife why I'd popped out to get some milk and returned an hour later with blood all over my best shirt. Could I explain that I'd got into a fight? She knows what the youths round here are like. This was all Kimberley's fault, and if she can't see how deluded she is about herself, she needs more than prison. She needs help.
Andrew rushed off immediately to get some loo roll. He seems to have stacks and stacks of loo roll. Kimbo told me once his mother has violent diarrhoea on top of everything else, but now I think she must just have been trying to be spiteful. Mrs Frances, that poor woman.
Once I'd mopped my nose up a bit, I could see Kimbo had collapsed on the sofa next to Shelby, who looked like she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I have no experience n dealing with nervous breakdowns and I didn't want Kimberley interfering. She's clearly not a fit social worker, so I said, 'Kimbo, leave the girl alone.' She spat back, predictably, 'I haven't done anything to her you arsehole.'
And I sensed another oppurtunity, so I said, 'Oh, but you have done something, Kimbo. What did you do to her brother? You tormented him, made him feel bad about your relationship. And then you blackmailed him into silence.' Something dawned on me, so I said, 'And then all of a sudden he mysteriously falls down a well. For no good reason. How many people really fall down wells these days?' and she said 'Shut up.' So I continued, 'Was he about to break his silence, Kimberley? Was he going to mention something to dear old Mummy and Daddy, or maybe confide in his sister? They seem very alike, Dylan and Shelby Dwight, probably the best of friends. So you killed him, didn't you?'
Andrew thrust more loo roll at me and said, 'Now let's not have any more upset this evening. Please, could we all go home and calm down?' But I wasn't finished. Kimberley's not the only one who can be vindictive. I bellowed at her, 'You killed Dylan Dwight, Kimberley, admit it. You killed Dylan so he wouldn't talk and then you dumped the body down a well. Admit your guilt and you can save yourself prison time. Admit it!'
Shelby started crying even more. Kimberley stood up and hissed back at me, 'No! You are not going to go around spreading this hate fucking propaganda! Alright I may be a bitch, but I'm not a murderer, and I don't want to hear you say that one more time, OK? It's sick, it's absolutely sick!' And then Shelby stood up with her hands out in front of her, knuckles white, and she said, 'No! No! It was me! I killed him, it was me!'