Page 168 of Like A Moth To A Flame

He was a swollen mess of blood and bruises, barely recognizable as a human.

As I stood there, frozen in shock, I could hardly believe what I was witnessing. But somehow, he was still alive.

Judging by the rise and fall of his chest, though looking down at him now, I could see no humanity in him. But even in his disfigured state, I couldn’t help but see the remnants of the person he once was.

Now? He was no longer that kid I had helped all those years ago. He was a wild animal, and he had to be put down like one.

With a sigh, I re-holstered my weapon, my fingertips grabbing the slack of my trousers as I knelt beside him.

“I gave you a chance, Billy,” I said, keeping my voice low and my tone hushed. “After your daddy went away? Remember who helped you?Ihelped you. You said you were different now, and you’d changed, and you weren’t like him.”

I made a face, wrinkling my nose as I shook my head, looking down at him. I could see the hitch in his breathing, and his bottom jaw fell open, as if unhinged, but I knew it wasn’t. No, judging by the groan of pain, it was broken.

Good. I didn’t want to hear him speak.

“You said you’d made a mistake, hmm? Doing what you did to Vanessa? Do you remember that? And me? Well…” I grunted, somewhere deep in my throat. I didn’t want to admit that I had been wrong. “I was stupid enough to believe you. I should have put you down back then, shouldn’t I? Should’ve taken you out and shot you like the animal you were. But now? Now, there’s a chance atforgiveness. Now, you can atone for your sins as you ought to have done all those years ago.”

I knelt there for a long while, watching as the steady rise and fall of his chest grew more and more shallow, and more and more far apart.

“And I am sorry, Billy. I am sorry that you never really had a chance, not bein’ raised by a monster like you was. But you were never no different, and I’m sorry I ever believed in you.”

I watched him struggle, his broken body convulsing and twitching, as he tried to fight for what was left of his life—the second chance I had given him, that he had never deserved.

Before long, I heard a long, low, mournful whine, and looked up to see Duke standing in the doorway, his eyes on mine as he watched me. Maybe part of him knew what I was doing, and why I was doing it. Judging by the way he crawled to me, his tail thumping along the floor and coming to lie in the puddle of blood at my feet and his long snout resting on my knee, he saw that my corruption was just.

It wasn’t until Billy’s body lay still and his chest had ceased its movement that I grabbed my radio, my fingers shaking as I pressed the button.

“Hey, Carla?” I asked, and there was a long, telling pause on the other end.

“Yes, Sheriff?”

“Gonna need you to call the coroner, darlin’,” I said, my voice hollow. “I tried, but the boy’s gone. Did all I could.”

“Oh, dear,” she said, and I could hear her sigh from miles away. “Poor soul.”

“Yeah,” I said out loud to no one, silencing the radio and returning it to its rightful place. “Poor soul indeed.”

43

All you gotta do is die a little to survive

Moth

Icouldn’t remember how I got to the hospital. I couldn’t remember the birth of our child.

All I remember was waking up in pain, and when I looked down, my bump was gone. I was alone in the room, looking at the cold, sterile walls when the nurse walked in the room, her head down and nose in a clipboard. She looked up at me with wide-open eyes, realizing I was awake.

“Well hello there, Miss Harper!” she beamed, rushing to my side and pressing two fingers against my wrist to take my pulse. “How are we feeling this morning?”

She had fluffy, fizzy auburn hair, thick glasses, and kind eyes. I could look into her eyes for hours. Her eyes held the answers that I so desperately wanted, even if tears choked my voice.

“Where’s Tommy?” I asked, blinking as my vision blurred, and she swam through my tears. “I-is our baby—”

I shook my head, forcing myself to look away, my jaw closing with a snap.

Icouldn’t say it. I couldn’t say the words.

“Tommy?” she asked, looking down at the clipboard with wide, terrified eyes. Why? Why was she terrified? What did she have to tell me? “Is that your husband, sweetheart?”

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