Page 160 of Catch Me
“You make sure this gets done right,” Dad tells Kyle.
I turn my attention to Dennis. “We’re somewhat of an unconventional family.”
He begins looking around the room. “Where am I?”
“That’s not important. I want you to take a look at something for me.” I hold up a burner phone and show him a video clip. It’s from one of his podcast episodes. The one he initially made about Ivy.
In the clip, he’s cackling like a fucking hyena.
“Do you like to laugh?”
“Hey, man, it was just a fucking joke,” he yells.
“That wasn’t my question. I asked ‘do you like to laugh?’” I raise an eyebrow.
His mouth opens and closes a few times, but no words come out.
“I’ll answer the question for you. It seems you do. So I want you to laugh right now.”
“Huh?” His eyes dart to Kyle, who remained silent throughout the duration of this exchange.
“I’ve got a joke to tell,” Kyle says. “You know, to increase the humor in the room.”
“Share with the class,” I say, moving to stand by Dennis’ side so we both can watch my brother.
Kyle goes to the cabinet, pulling out a black box, and I smirk as he brings it over and places it in front of Dennis.
“Oh, that’s right, your hands are a little occupied at the moment. Let me,” he offers, removing the lid of the box.
Dennis instantly starts screaming. “What the hell?! What the fuck?!?”
“Guess, he doesn’t like surprises,” I tell Kyle, who just shrugs. “Since you and your co-hosts like laughing and bullying so much, I thought you’d want them here for this,” I say, looking at the severed hands in the box.
When he continues screaming, I smack him so hard that his head snaps sideways.
“I said laugh. I want to hear you laugh, not scream like a bitch.”
He still doesn’t get it, so I punch him this time. Blood squirts out of his nose and mouth.
“Dammit, you’re definitely going to have bruised knuckles,” Kyle complains.
“Laugh, motherfucker. You thought shit was funny while behind the camera and a microphone, how about now?” I demand while punching in the opposite side of his face. “Laugh,” I yell at the same time his chair tips over, sending him to the floor.
He coughs a couple of times, blood spilling out of his mouth.
“Laugh.”
“Ha …” he blurts out.
“That was pathetic.” I kick him in his ribs. “Laugh!”
The next sound that comes from him is a mixture of a pathetic fake laugh and groans of pain. I kick him again and again.
Eventually he passes out.
That’s when Kyle wraps me up from behind. “That’s it. Put the fucking needle in his neck and let’s be done with this shitbag.”
I’m breathless and my anger isn’t fully settled but I know my brother’s right. I’ve got more important shit to pay attention to than this piece of garbage.
