Eddie discovered one of his childhood's great truths. Grownups are the real monsters, he thought.

For a moment he felt a wild hope: perhaps this really was a nightmare. Perhaps he would awake in his own bed, bathed in sweat, shaking, maybe even crying . . . but alive. Safe. Then he pushed the thought away. Its charm was deadly, its comfort fatal.

It's the kind of kiss that ends with clothes on the floor and somebody getting dicked out up against the wall.