Thanks for continuing to read my story!

This is a shortie, but more to come soon.

Erik

Chapter 21

The Nightmares

I let out a scream of anguish and rage, but it was drowned out by the thunder that followed the lightning.

Sasha!

They killed Sasha!

The relentless rain was freezing me to my core, but I didn't care. I went to my friend as she hung limply, swinging from her necklace of rope in the storm. It was a low branch, just tall enough for a grown person to reach. I wrapped my arms around her soaking furry body and tried to pull her down, but she didn't budge. In fact, I think the noose was only becoming tighter.

I sobbed.

"Erik!" cried Marie from the doorway. "Please! Come inside!"

"No!" I yelled, still hugging Sasha's body. My mask was now wet both inside and outside.

"Erik!"

"No!" I tried tugging again, hoping that, by chance, the rope would break or her head would slip from the noose. It only seemed to tighten again.

Lightning flashed close by, and the roar that followed intensified my hold on her. I wouldn't leave her alone like this. Leaving her alone outside was what led to this nightmare. I had to put her somewhere safe.

I had to bury her.

I had to give her a proper burial.

I tugged on her frantically. I tried pulling on the rope around her neck, but it wouldn't move, either. I reached above her head, to the stretch of rope itself, pulling on that as well, hoping perhaps the branch would break.

A hand went to my shoulder, and I spun with a gasp. Marie watched me with deep misery in her eyes, holding an umbrella over her.

"Erik," she said, "we need to wait for the storm to pass."

I shook my head. "No."

"Yes, love."

"No!" More tears slipped below my mask. "This is my fault. I have to get her down."

Her features contorted. "This isn't your fault. You didn't do this."

I shook my head again. She didn't understand. This was my fault. Everything bad that happened to our house was my fault. My mother's wrath was my fault. The town's fear was my fault.

I had to fix it.

"I need to get her down," I sobbed. "Please, Marie. I need to get her down now."

"And we will," she went for my hand. I spun away and wrapped my arms around Sasha's body again. I was shaking, from cold and from horror.

"I won't go inside," I moaned. "Not until she's buried."

Marie tried to pull me away from Sasha, but I wouldn't let go. She begged me to come with her, but I refused. I wouldn't leave her side, not until she was in the ground.

At last, Marie let go. I'd thought, for a moment, that she'd given up and gone inside, but then the umbrella fell, closed, and she went around to the other side of Sasha.

"Lift her up as much as you can," she said.

I did, hoisting her up with my arms. Marie went to the noose and slackened it with both hands, and then pushed Sasha's head through. Gently, I lowered her to grass.

I went on my knees and immediately began to dig into the cold, hard earth with my fingers.

"Erik," she said, shock in her voice, "not with your hands."

"I need to bury her!"

This time she did leave. That was fine. I didn't care. I would put my friend to her final resting place and no one would stop me.

But she returned soon enough with a shovel. At first, she started to dig the spot herself, but I hastily stood and took the shovel from her. I dug like my life depended on it. Because it did. Every second Sasha was lying broken in the rain was a second that a piece of me was withering away.

So Marie picked up the umbrella and hung it over me, letting herself be drenched as I dug a grave - a grave that should have been mine.

It took nearly half an hour for the burial to be finished.

And when it was, I dropped the shovel, went to the ground, and wailed. Marie only continued holding the umbrella over me. It was when I opened my eyes to see her shivering, cold, and wet, that I made myself get up and let her lead me inside.

She immediately made me take a bath and then put me to bed.

She didn't bother with a bath at all, simply changing into nightclothes and getting into the bed with me. She wrapped her arms around me and sung to me as I cried myself into a fitful sleep.

And for the next week, my dreams were filled with nightmares. She slept right next to me through all of them. I wasn't able to eat, but she didn't mention my lack of appetite. Hers was just as small. My mother cried for Sasha - she'd loved the dog, too - but avoided looking at me or Marie. No doubt she blamed me for it. I blamed myself for it too.

Marie tried her hardest to keep a semblance of normalcy, for my benefit. She smiled when she could, continuing to read me stories, even if my eyes were glazed over while she read. But I noticed the haunted look in her eyes, the one that no doubt resembled mine.

The act of normalcy couldn't be kept up for long.

One night, as she held me close to her while I pretended to sleep, not wanting to drift off for fear of another nightmare filled with dead dogs and thunderstorms, she coughed.

A few seconds later, she coughed again.