We were finally done—Marcel took off his face mask. There was a fine line between where the splatter reached his face and how everything just below his nose was still untouched. His eyes looked at the massacre on the table then at me.
His hands were still shaking violently even after dropping the buzz saw, “Okay, it’s your turn. Go get the bag and clean up.”
My body was stuck on the other side of the room, refusing to move. I kept shaking my head, tears flooding out of my eyes.
“We just chopped up a guy’s dead body!”