Cookie and Friends B. Classbook

She fell back on the floor, out cold. Sweat ran off Gwen's face. Her hands felt cold, lifeless. Her throat dry. "Allen, stop. You're killing him. Allen!" "Whore. Viet Cong whore. I remember you, you bitch. You tried to kill me. You sat on my face." His voice was broken, his hands like pliers pinching and pressing Gwen's shoulders down. Bob no longer stirred beneath her. His body was limp and lifeless. The teeth didn't bite. The mouth didn't move. "Die. Die!" Allen cried, shoving Gwen down harder and harder. "Die! Die!" "Allen," she sobbed. "You killed him. You killed him." "Good. He's one of them. He shot the mortars. I know he did. And you're one too. You're one of them. You killed Monroe. You slit his throat." Gwen felt the knife press against her throat. "I'm going to fuck you, you whore. I'm going to fuck you in the ass like I should all your cookie friends. Then I'm going to kill you, cut your throat." He pushed her down. Her gnawed vagina slipped off Bob's pale face. His mouth was open, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. Gwen screamed. "Nobody can help you, bitch." He laughed insanely, drawing the knife across her throat, slitting the skin and making the blood dribble slowly down her chest. "Raise your ass up, bitch. Raise it." He pulled her waist up and pushed her head down into the bedspread near Bob's dead face ...»