I Buried My Dog and My Love for Him

I forced the words out through clenched teeth. "Every single thing was done by her. Why should it all land on me? I won't sign anything, and I'll never post a word online that makes her look good."

"Judith, how far are you going to take this with a kid? Aren't you ashamed, at your age? She's just young at heart, she isn't some terrible person."

"She scolded you a little, gave the dog a couple of kicks, that's all. She didn't actually do anything wrong. She's so kind, she'd never really hurt either of you, and you won't even apologize?"

I was so furious I could barely breathe.

Biscuit's leg was crippled for life.

Every step he dragged himself forward was pain, and his health had always been frail. He wouldn't have lasted long as it was.

A couple of kicks? That was killing him.

Eugene saw he was getting nowhere with me, so he went straight for the threat. "If you don't agree, then you'll never see Biscuit again as long as you live. Let him die alongside that dog."

My composure broke and I changed my answer at once. "I'll do whatever you say. You want me on my knees apologizing to her, fine, but don't touch Biscuit."

I had only one condition. "I want him brought back to me safe and sound. Sherry isn't to lay a hand on him, and I'll apologize."

I started typing right away, taking every single thing onto myself, painting myself as a jealous, spiteful woman.

Then, already covered in injuries, I poured the bucket of ice water over my own body, shaking so hard even my teeth chattered.

A whole crowd online cursed me. Some of them told me to go die.

I didn't care about the pile-on, the cold, the pain.

As long as I came home and found Biscuit safe, all of it was worth it.

I was released.

But back home, there was no sign of Biscuit anywhere.

Instead, Sherry, who somehow knew our door code, had let herself in and was strolling around like she owned the place.

I looked at her and the words came out frantic. "Biscuit? Where's my Biscuit?"

Sherry smiled, vicious and innocent at once, dripping with malice. "Huh? You mean that stray mutt? He died ages ago. Whined and whimpered all night, and you wanted me to spend money taking him to a vet. I didn't have the cash, so I just let him hurt until he died."

My eyes nearly split open. I seized her by the throat and squeezed. "I did everything you told me to. Why couldn't you let a dog live? Why are you this cruel?"

Sherry's face changed. "Eugene, help me."

Eugene, back I don't know when, yanked me off her. "It's just an animal. Dead is dead. A crippled dog was going to die sooner or later anyway. What does that have to do with Sherry? You'd kill someone over a dog?"

I lost all reason. "Where is my Biscuit? You promised me nothing would happen to him. If Biscuit is dead, I'll kill her right now!"

Sherry flinched, the words slipping out before she thought. "How would I know where some dead dog got thrown?"

I tore down the stairs like a madwoman and started searching everywhere for Biscuit.

Even the heavens seemed moved, hurling down a furious rain that matched exactly what was inside me.

And Eugene, who had once called himself Biscuit's daddy in every other breath, didn't care in the slightest whether I lived or died.

"Biscuit, please, please be all right!"

I dug for a long time.

In the end I found his cold body in the trash.

Biscuit's body was broken open, a gaping hole torn through him.

And yet his face, even twisted as it was, held a trace of peace.

Even at the end, Biscuit was afraid of upsetting me, afraid of worrying me.

He gave me the most dignified, the very smile I loved best.

The rain came down hard.

I couldn't seem to feel myself crying. It was all rainwater.

Biscuit wouldn't want to see me sad either, so I didn't cry. I really didn't.

And so the last family I had left in this life was gone too.

I wonder if this result satisfied Eugene.

But it did not satisfy me.

Eugene Sanchez. Sherry Bowen. I will make you both pay.