No Exit by Taylor Adams 2

“Thank you.” Sandi exhaled, tears in her eyes. “Thank
you, Eddie, for—”
THWUMP.
Ed made an oafish face, like a man surprised by a belch.
For a confused moment, he still held eye contact with Ashley,
same as before. But his eyes were wide now, panicked,
searching—
“You forgot,” Ashley told him. “I’m a liar, too.”
He lowered the nailer.
Ed’s eyes followed it, glistening with caged horror. His
lips tightened wetly, contracting flesh, like he was trying to
speak, but a surreal thing happened — his jaw wasn’t moving.
Not even a centimeter. His voice escaped through his nostrils,
a strangled moan. A sloppy red bubble — saliva thickened
with blood — blistered through his front teeth and splashed
down to the floor.
Ashley stepped back, so it wouldn’t spatter his shoes.
Sandi screamed. It was earsplitting.
“Lars.” Ashley snapped his fingers and pointed. “Control
her, please.”
Ed slapped both hands to his throat, clearly trying to
scream, too, but his body wouldn’t let him. His mouth was
nailed shut — literally — by a steel framing nail, pierced
through his lower jaw at an upward angle, harpooning his
tongue to the roof of his mouth. Ashley imagined it wriggling
in there like a bloody eel. And he was genuinely curious how
deep the 16-penny nail had tunneled — could its needle-tip be
tickling the floor of Ed’s brain?
He pushed the man over with his foot. Ed slumped against
the regional map of Colorado and slid down the wall, sobbing
silently into his hands, blood pooling in his palms and
dribbling dime-sized blots on the floor.
“Have a seat. You should know, Eddie-boy, I hate
alcoholics …”