Yvonne died that night. The doctor who came later claimed that it was pneumonia but Carl thought different. As he gazed at her body lying motionless on the bed, he swept his hands over her face with a new found fascination. He was proud. Proud that she didn't let in. But this was no longer Yvonne. The same woman that he used to come down to the bar and curse the world. The same one that he numerous times shouted at that she was a worthless **** and shattered all the glasses that she had spent hours cleaning. Now that she was dead her existence in the land of dead made her his
object of worship.