4

I cleaned all day Saturday, taking down what took me weeks to put up. I brought in the donations and couldn't bring myself to smile at the ecstatic volunteers. I didn't stick around for the counts.

On Sunday I wake up from my post-cleaning nap feeling even worse than when I went to bed. My head hurts from dehydration. The room is dark, and I'm shocked when I check my phone. 5PM. Shit.

Freya is whining to go outside, so I release her. She is slower these days. The cold isn't good for her joints.

I leave the door partially open as I go to the kitchen. I take out a frozen soup and stick it in the microwave for seven minutes.

I want to take out a can of coke to spite Laura and Emilie, but I find myself getting a glass of water from the tap.

I drop the cup in the sink as I hear Freya yip from outside. The lights aren't on, so I flick them on, expecting to see her at the fringe of the forest, where it starts to get dark. But no.

"Freya!" I call. Nothing.

I slip my shoes on and call her again and again. My heartbeat picks up as I reach the forest's edge.

"Freya?"

The forest is dark, and I didn't expect to need a light so I didn't bring one. But I love Freya too much to turn around and get one.

I step through the forest, pushing branches out of my way and scanning for her.

After ten minutes, my throat sore from hollering, I find her. Her body.

I scream, and I scream harder when she doesn't move. Her eyes are open, black in the darkness. Under her neck is dark, and as I sink to my knees I sink into a pool of blood.

My screams are hoarse, and all I can do is run my hands over her, shaking her, pressing my ear to her chest to hear a heartbeat.

I feel crushed by the silence, and I scream to break it.

My breathing is ragged by the time I pull her into my arms and stumble back to the path, back to the light. It's even worse, setting her down by the garage. I'm covered in blood.

I run into the house to get some towels and my keys. The microwaves beeps to remind me to take out the soup.

I lay the towels in the back of the car and get Freya inside. The animal hospital closes at 6PM, and I barely get there in time. They're locking up when I pull in up front. Maybe it's the blood on my hands, chest and knees, or maybe it's the deranged look in my eyes, but the vet and technician rush over to me and help move Freya from the car.

I'm a mess as they lay her on the table. The vet, Tim, takes his stethoscope out for show and checks for vitals. And he checks again. He looks over the cuts on her neck.

"Must've been a bobcat." Tim says quietly. I break into new tears, unable to ask the question. But he knows. "I'm sorry, Celia."

The tech pushes me into a chair and awkwardly pats my shoulder while Tim steps out of the room. I cry and cry and cry, wiping my hands on my sweater and wiping my face into my elbow.

"I want to wash her off, before…" I said. The tech nods and continues to pat my shoulder.

"Where is she?"

I hear the strange voice but I don't connect the dots until the EMT is kneeling in front of me.

"Hi Celia, I'm David."

I look at Dr. Tim in horror. He stands in the doorway, looking away from me.

David and his EMT pal Cindy wrestle me into the back of the ambulance. I don't let them strap me down to the gurney, which is a small victory. Cindy wants to clean me off but I tell her not to touch me. She's scared of the look in my eye.

We get to the hospital and the put me in a room with a bed and a package of baby wipes and a box of tissues.

A nurse stands by the door in silence. I don't notice her for awhile, I'm just sitting on the bed shaking, after all, but when I look up I recognize Josie's mother, the gossip queen. Even worse than Laura's mom.

I want to die. Right here. Right now.

A figure strides down the hallway and brushes by her in the doorway to head straight for me. He pulls up a chair and sits in front of me.

"Hi Celia. I'm Dr. Bayliss."

I look at him and fall into some sort of trance. He's an angel, there's no way around it. He puts on his gloves and takes a wipe from beside me before gently taking one of my hands and starting to wipe it off.

"I've heard you've had quite the evening. I'm sorry to hear it." he says. I'm quiet for some time, before I say "You're Nessie's dad, right?"

It comes out as a whisper because my voice is so bad. He gives me a smile, a sad smile. "I am." he says, as Josie's mother brings him a bin to put the 'hazardous waste' into. She sets down a hospital shirt and pyjama pant for me to wear.

The blood is dried and cracked in some places. I feel disgusting, and it feels heightened by Dr. Bayliss sitting in front of me, all perfect. He scrubs the blood off my arms as if he isn't repulsed by me a bit. As if he wasn't bothered by the roundness of my tummy, my thick thighs, my round face. I feel tears leaking out of my eyes. They drip lazily off my face. I'm too tired now. The only thing that could make this better would be a cuddle with Freya.

Freya.

I let out a hiccup and the doctor makes a soothing noise. He releases my arm, looks me over, and then insists I take off my sweater. It's heavy and wet, and it smears blood on my face as I pull it off. Instinctually I reach up to wipe it off with my clean hand, which starts a whole new round of crying.

Between calming me down and wiping me off, Dr. Bayliss spends another ten minutes in my presence while the nurse hovers at the door. He promises to return with some water and a lozenge, and leaves me with her so that I'll change.

"Can't I go home?" I sob. My jeans are wet and stick to my legs as I struggle to take them off. Josie's mother, Tiffany, has to help me. She makes no move to help me clean off, thank goodness, and I am free to wipe my legs down with the baby wipes. My underwear is not dirty and I leave it on as I get into the pyjamas. Tiffany wrinkles her nose and puts my clothes straight into the garbage before retreating back to her post at the door.

I take a baby wipe and clean the wooden cross. It's not dirty, but it feels better all the same. Dr. Bayliss returns with a capless bottle of water and a wrapped Halls.

"Can I go home?" I say, taking the water from him. He sits down and places his clipboard on his lap. "Well, we have to release you to a guardian. We've already called your mother, and she should be here in the morning. You were alone when your dog was attacked?"

"I let her into the backyard." I said, scooching backwards onto the bed and crossing my legs. I didn't like the way he asked, and he seemed to realize his mistake.

"What was her name?" he asked. I picked at a string on the pillowcase. I was done with people for the night. He tried to ask me some more questions, but I didn't say a word.

Unsurprisingly, mother was doting when she came in the morning. She brought McDonald's breakfast and Starbucks coffee, something cold and slushy with lots of sugary stuff like chocolate and caramel and whipped cream. She crawled onto bed and hugged me tight, which was the best kind of hug.

I didn't realize she had more bad news for me.

"They want you to stay for a couple of days. Just to keep an eye on you."

She holds my hand as she tells me this.

"You can tell them no, though, can't you? They'll release me to you."

She is silent for a long pause, and I pull my hand away. I sit up in bed. "You know, I put up with you and Ryan and his kids, and you being gone and being ashamed of me. Can't you just do this one thing?"

My voice is low, but both of us are on the defensive as Dr. Bayliss walks in.

"Good morning, Celia. You must be Mrs. Worth." He says to my mother. She smiles awkwardly. "Actually, it's Ms. Dale."

"My apologies." he says, tucking his clipboard under an arm. I give my mother a look.

"Where do I go to sign out Celia?" she asks. He doesn't look impressed.

"Why don't you let me take you to the desk? Just hang tight, Celia."

My mother brought a bag of clothes with her before they told her their intentions to keep me, so in her absence I change into them. They're clothes from home. I pick off Freya's hairs, and sit in the chair opposite my bed.

"Okay Celia, let's go."

I hop up at the sound of my mother's voice. Dr. Bayliss is in the background, talking to someone at a desk. He is visibly annoyed. My mother takes my hand and marches me out of the hospital.

Ryan digs a grave for Freya beside my last dog, Chrysanthemum. The tech was true to her word, and Freya's neck is barely pink where she was bitten.

I sniffle and choke up, and Ryan offers to cover her up after I lower her into the hole. I take him up on it, placing Freya's favourite toys into the grave with her before Ryan helps me out of the hole.

Mother cleaned away all the blood from the kitchen door, and I see my bowl of soup sitting in the sink. I stare at it for awhile, grab my phone, and head up to my room.

Jason and Lily are playing in the hallway. They freeze when they see me and step aside, like they'll catch my mental illness through contact.

I continue on to my room and collapse into my bed. I should shower. I should answer one of the 257 text messages on my phone. But I lay in bed and drift somewhere between sleep and reality until almost supper.

I help Ryan pack Lily and Jason into the car. Mother's going to stick around for a few days, because the doctor looked so pissed about me leaving that she was worried he'd call CPS.

She ordered in Chinese and we ate in front of the TV, watching something mundane.

"Today's Monday." I said as I put down my glass of water. Mother was shocked that I'd turned down a coke.

"That's right, honey." she said, flipping between Sex and the City and a documentary about World War I. She picked Sex and the City.

It was Wednesday night before she left, hugging me tight and kissing me forehead.

"Call me if you need me, right?" she said. This was a lie.

"I know."

She slipped into her car and drove off.

I stood in the empty driveway for a long, long time.

I had the rest of the week off, which was grand and embarrassing. I slept late and woke up late, not checking any emails for homework. I picked at the remains of the Chinese food for a long while before I started on the contents of the freezer. Going to the grocery store felt like driving over to a fate worse than death.

I took down all the medication from the cabinet a couple times, seeing what we had. Just in case the need presented itself. It might. I felt such a relief every time I put the little bottles back. It was like I won.

Saturday morning I cleaned the house from top to bottom. I even went through the Halloween decorations and put them away properly. I cried a little through it. I still hadn't checked my phone.

In the evening I was making tea for myself when I heard a car rumble down the driveway. It was a silver car, and I peeked out of the door to see what was going on, a hot mug in hand. To my shock, Nessie jumped out of the car. Her face was red and splotchy.

"Why didn't you call me back?" She said, pulling the tea from my hands and setting it on the ground. She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed.

"What do you want to talk to me for?" I said. "I'm just the nice one, remember? You don't need to repulse anyone, do you? I'm all booked out for the next couple of weeks, I'm afraid."

"I'm sorry about that." she said, wiping tears away as she pulled away. I bent down and picked up my tea.

"Leave me alone." I said, and closed the door. She knocked immediately and tried the handle. She was pounding on the door by the time I got to the kitchen. After a few more minutes I heard the car drive away.

That tricky bobcat, huh?

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