My puppy lies barely breathing. Rotting flesh hangs from his skull. He whimpers, eyes begging. I’m crying so hard I can barely see.
It’s the nightmare that’s stolen my sleep for weeks.
But this time, I’m awake.
I swing the shovel once. Twice. The third blow ends it. Bone gives way with a wet scrape. The acrid smell of blood fills my nose.
I drop to my knees, clutch him, and scream—
Wait.
That screaming isn’t mine.
My eyes snap open.
In my arms: bone, brain, ruin.
Across the room, my wife shrieks,
“My baby.”