kirsten would always feel that block of solid concrete in her hands ; the weight of it as she heaved it over her head ; the way she threw it down with such extravagant force ; the puncturing , cracking sounds of his skull and the dripping , suckling , sploshing sounds of his innards ; the amounts of blood and brain that his tiny fat head produced and were now splattered on the dirt ground , clinging to leaves and sticksit was as close to god as you could possibly get .