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Bang!
And as Iggy slumped down into his soft bed, he took part of me with him.
The part of me who'd clung to hope.
The part of me who was soft and weak.
I didn’t cry, not when I placed the gun on the ground, or when I walked to the side of the house and dragged back the shovel. The ground was hard as stone. Icy winds cut through my shirt like a knives. Still, I swung and battled, screaming my rage into the earth. I punched the sole of my sneaker against the steel and dug, inch by inch…hour by hour.
The laughter didn't rise again in the house behind me. The thud of car doors rang out sometime later. Still I dug, until my palms stung and bled.
I buried Iggy in the corner of my backyard in a grave as big as I could make. When I packed the last shovel of dirt over him, I picked up the gun and turned, leaving the ruined dog bed outside.
There’d be no more trash can dogs for me.
No more weakness.
No more tears.
My palms stung as I heaved myself up the stairs, taking them one by one. My face was on fire, my body shook.
“I’m proud of you, Lazarus,” Dad muttered when I stepped inside.
“Why?” I lifted my gaze to his.
He just stood there, those dark eyes finding mine.
The cold stayed with me, even after I stood under a hot shower.
And when I rose the next morning, I didn't go into the backyard.
I never would again…
For as long as I lived.
3
Kat
18 years old…
“Ma’am.”
I opened my bedroom door, startling the maid.
She just stood there, staring at my shimmering midnight floor-length gown as she whispered, “Your father’s expecting you.”
Of course he was…can’t forget the fucking entertainment.
But I didn’t say a word, not to her. She was new anyway, not yet used to the VanHalen way. But she would be soon enough…it was either that or leave. I walked along the hallway of the east wing, My Louis Vuitton heels sinking into the plush black carpet. It was all black here now. Black halls. Black rooms. Like a rot that had slowly creeped into my world and never left.
Ruined to the core.
Just like me.
There were two people that lived in me, two I wore like a mask. My stomach clenched at the thought, but it was the truth. My entire life was lived around masks, ones others wore and ones they carved out for me. It was the mask I changed now as I walked slowly toward the west wing of our house. I could feel her leaving, like a ghost. Her warmth sliding from my soul, leaving nothing but the stony cold behind.
Heels clacked as hard marble replaced carpet. I strode through the expansive library, veering around the velvet red chesterfield sofa and past the huge black marble hearth. Open French doors called to me, urging me to stay and curl up and bathe in the warm spring sun that flooded through the windows. But didn’t. I couldn’t, not here…not now.
