The Complete Collection by Susan Shultz

again. “It means who cares why she did it? She got left out of playing jump rope in sixth grade. Her daddy
abandoned her when she was little. Her mommy didn’t tell her she was special
enough. Whatever,” he stands up now.
    “The facts are the facts—we all have our crosses to
bear. We all have tough lives. We don’t deal with them by killing others and eating their body parts. Do you hear me, Lila? She ate those poor bastards.
What kind of person does that? The only thing I care about is that she’s dead
and she can’t do it anymore. Who the hell cares why she did it?” he says.
    “Scott, everything isn’t always exactly as it seems... Sometimes…sometimes
there's more of a monster inside of us than we think," I venture.
    And with that, he heads back into the kitchen for another
beer.
    I walk over to my laptop bag and open it for a moment,
pushing the journal down deep and out of sight.
    What I don't tell him is that it's because I care.
    I care.

Chapter 3
     
On my knees, I pull weeds from the dirt by the
graves. My graveyard garden is perfect. Healthy grass, spots of lavender. I
scatter stepping-stones throughout the graves, and there is a bench for me to
sit on as I read or write poems for Sam. I’ll tell you more about him later.
 
Beyond the stones, there are other graves. They are
unmarked.
 
Only the Blacksmith knows who they are.
     
    * * *
     
    A whisper dances across my neck and
I physically shudder. It feels like the touch of gentle, loving fingers. I
shiver again.
    “Lila.”
    I gasp loudly at Scott’s whispered voice behind me and
quickly drop the journal to my side on the couch.
    “Lila, what are you doing? It’s two o’clock in the morning,”
he says, his light-brown hair askew from sleep.
    “Sorry, I was doing some research for a story,” I say,
shoving the journal and notebook into my bag.
    “Not still the murders, right?” he says.
    I feel a brief flash of anger and frustration, but let it
go. He'll never understand. Neither will Ray. I just have to accept that and
move on.
    “No,” I force a smile, “not the murders.”
    I feel a sense of relief as one of my internal doors closes
in the isolating breeze of this latest lie, and I actually smile.
    Scott smiles back warmly.
    “I’m sorry about earlier,” he says, pulling my face toward his
for a gentle kiss. “I love you, Lila.”
    I kiss him back, but I’m not sorry.
    Not sorry at all.
     
    * * *
     
    The flight of birds wakes me in the
dusk. I am there again.
    I hear the trees creak, groaning against each other in the
dark wind like violins made of bone.
    I am not afraid.
    I am not sorry.
    I am not cold.
    I walk toward the dark, sad house. No longer a place of fear
for me, now it is just a place of pain.
    I am barefoot, but nothing can hurt me.
    A light goes on in the house—the second floor. A
shadow passes across the window—across my heart. The trees play a
symphony of aching, conducted by the wind.
    I watch the window. The shadow moves back and forth. Rocking.
Waiting.
    I look toward the backyard—the disturbed earth.
    And then I see him—his shadow in the moonlight.
    He has my answers. I know that now.
    I walk up the hill in the darkness to him. The closer I get,
the softer the earth is under my feet.
    I get closer to him.
    The Blacksmith is there.
    I cannot see his face, but I know he is smiling.
    I am not afraid. I want to know the truth.
    He points to the earth.
    I understand.
    I fall to my knees in my cotton nightgown and, with my
hands, I start to dig. I rake through the blood-soaked dirt and lift, uncover, the
hole getting deep, deeper. I wipe the dirt from my eyes with my nightgown so I
can see.
    My hands get harder to lift. My feet are disappearing.
    I feel myself transform.
    My fingers and my toes are changing—becoming one with
the dirt.
    Slowly, exhilaratingly, I am sprouting tender roots. My
roots embed in the ground. Tendrils cup the deep earth that is filled with
secrets. My face is blossom-kissed by