Chapter 4The Price of Buddy

Mark didn’t stop.

He hacked at the dog.

Over.

And over.

"This is for your screwed-up priorities!"

"This is for hitting a kid!"

"This is for threatening divorce!"

I watched my best friend being butchered.

He wasn’t dead yet. He was suffering.

"Mark, I’m going to kill you!"

I grabbed a heavy wooden chair from the dining table.

I smashed it over Mark’s head.

Wood splintered.

Blood trickled down Mark’s forehead.

But he didn’t drop the knife.

His eyes were wide, manic, red-rimmed.

He raised the blade again.

He was going to chop Buddy into pieces.

I remembered my self-defense class.

Go for the soft spots.

I gathered every ounce of strength I had.

And I kicked him squarely between the legs.

Mark’s eyes bulged.

He dropped the knife, clutching his groin.

He collapsed to the floor, making a sound like a dying radiator.

Just then, Brenda rushed in.

She saw her son on the floor, bleeding.

She screamed, shoving me aside.

"You ruined it! You ruined everything!" she wailed, cradling Mark’s bleeding head.

I crawled over to Buddy.

He was quiet now.

He was just… a pile of fur and blood.

Mark, still gasping in pain, reached out.

He grabbed Buddy’s severed head.

He threw it at my feet.

"Welcome to the real world, Princess," he wheezed.

"Nobody’s going to baby you anymore."

I fell to my knees.

I picked up the head.

It felt so light.

I remembered when he used to tackle me in the yard, licking my face until I couldn't breathe from laughing.

I remembered carrying him when his arthritis got bad.

"You’re getting heavy, old man," I used to say.

Now… nothing.

I walked out.

Mark couldn’t stop me. The kick had been too hard.

He needed an ambulance.

I drove to my parents’ house.

Buddy was in a plastic bag on the passenger seat.

On my wedding day, Buddy had sat in the limo with me.