Cooper screamed when he saw the sliced-open corpse of the family's six year old dog. Lila ran up behind him–of course she had to touch it. His coat came off in clumps of bloody golden brown fur, and she rolled it around in her fingers until her skin smelled like rotting meat.
"I-I'm going to go get dad," Cooper choked out, running away as fast as his tiny legs could carry him.
She crouched down, turning her head to the side to look deep into its eyes. They were stretched wide and grey, staring at her. She grinned down at it. The dog laid there, tongue limp on the ground and ants swarming around it. Lila ran her fingers along the slash in his stomach and plunged her fingers deep between his skin. He was still warm, steaming in the winter air.
"Lila–"
Cooper clung to Clint, kneading his hands underneath his shirt, whimpering. Her father took Lila by the shoulders and steered her to his side. "Go back to the house."
"But Daddy–"
"Just listen." He said sternly, and so she did. The sun was setting by now, and Lila snuck a glance of the dog bathed in shades of magenta and blue as she climbed the stairs. She watched her father take Dusky by the legs, dragging him past the fence and to the edge of the forest. He turned back and was home in time for dinner. Clint took Lila to the bathroom, crouching, talking softly.
"Dusky won't be able to play with you anymore."
She didn't move. "I know he's dead."
He nodded and took her arms, careful to avoid the blood smeared on her hands. "Wash your arms," he said softly. Lila stood on the stool in front of the sink, rubbing soap up to her elbows.
"Do you know why Dusky died?"
She didn't.
"I don't know either."
Lila heard Clint and Laura whispering late into the night. She watched Cooper as he slept to see if his eyelashes quivered, if he too wanted to know the fate of poor Dusky. In the morning, Lila could see Clint burying the dog from her bedroom window. He looked upset, but so was she. Later, when he was away at work and she'd finished her chores, Lila stood by Dusky's grave and patted the dirt down.
"How did it feel to die?"
The dog didn't reply.
"Did it feel good?"
She said a short prayer to the Lord. It was a nice thought. She forgot the next day.
