My Parents, Their Pet, My Hell

to death was so real, I could still feel the phantom cold i

s tail and licking my mother' s hand. She was already captivated, h

st thing, Sarah?" she ask

acade dropped. His eyes were cold, ancient, and filled with a chilling intel

he was a normal dog a

d, my voice f

ld watch. I woul

hey were all I could see. I watched how Buddy never begged for food like a normal dog. He would simply si

a conversation with them. He' d nudge their hands for a pet or let out a soft whine, drawing t

needed proof that what

h. My parents were in the other room, mesmerized by some cheap telev

placed the jerky on the very top shelf, tucked behind a thic

d to myself. "Let's

om through the crack. For almost an hour, Buddy didn't move. I started to

om, then toward my door. He knew I was watching. He stood

next made my

ting his head as if he were studying a complex puzzle. Then, he nudged t

y. It began to rock back and forth, the books on top starting to slide. He

the movement, slid to the edge o

hen he looked directly at the crack in my door, directly at me, a

over me. This thing in

from our front door. My father opened it to find

. The owner sold the building. New management is doubling the

ow. Double the rent? We could bare

What are we going to do, Ma

ered from my first life. But this time, th

m. "Don't worry," he said, stroking the dog's head. "Whate

her tears. "Yes, of cours

impending homelessness, their primary concer

what few possessions we had that might be worth something.

eglect had killed me. Thi

had chosen their side. Now, I would choose mine. I would not

. And I would d

I had to get out. But before I did, I had to expose th

fe depend