Bunker Dogs by Gage Greenwood

Author:Gage Greenwood [Greenwood, Gage]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tanner's Switch Publishing
Published: 2023-07-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

The Masks We Wear

CASSIE, AGE 5

Outside of the screaming in the kitchen, the house was still and peaceful. Dust motes fluttered within the light beam slicing through the living room, the gentle crackle of cooking meat penetrated the arguments broiling behind the living room wall, and the muted television played M*A*S*H reruns for Cassie to enjoy. She was too young to understand the plots, but she liked the characters and their silly facial expressions.

She’d overheard her parents argue about her before, whispering heated debates, but this was the first with raised voices where they didn’t hide their concern.

Before the toenail incident, her family’s arguments stemmed from a concern about her, but now the heated exchanges centered on them, their safety, their well-being. Cassie was a landmine, and her family fought about where to place their feet.

Something thudded in the kitchen, as if someone punched a wall. “We can’t keep shrugging this away, bending over backwards to cover up this shit. She’s going to kill someone,” her father said, knowing full well she could hear him.

She tried not to cry, convincing herself they loved her, even if she knew that wasn’t true.

“I’m working on it. You don’t understand what she’s going through. I do. I get it. You have to trust me. If you let me handle this, I can fix it.” Her mother’s words shielded Cassie from the ever-pressing dread of loneliness, the constant feeling that Cassie didn’t belong, didn’t fit in.

Another ally, Chris, was in the kitchen too, but he said nothing, just listened. She waited for him to defend her, but it never happened. Maybe he wanted to speak but couldn’t get a word in edgewise because, eventually, as their mother and father bickered, Chris gave up.

His feet pounded from the kitchen to the stairwell, dramatic clomps rising until they thumped above Cassie’s head. Chris’s angry song ended in a crescendo when his bedroom door slammed shut.

“You shouldn’t be listening to this, Cassie.”

Cassie wiped her eyes. “I have to.”

“Tell me about your day in Kindergarten.”

“Why? You were there.”

“Yes, but I want to hear about it from your experience.”

“It was fine.”

Her father’s voice bellowed from the kitchen, but Cassie no longer heard the words, something about her mother’s quack of a doctor.

“It wasn’t fine. You don’t need to lie to me.”

She shrugged. “I don’t like it. You know that.”

“Why don’t you like it?”

“I feel alone.”

“Why? You have friends. Samantha seems to like you. Patrick played tag with you on the playground. Mrs. Fitzsimmons thinks you’re very bright.”

Cassie shrugged.

“Don’t just shrug. Give me an answer.”

“They like me, but I don’t like them.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Dig.”

“Because they are pretend friends. They aren’t real.”

“They’re as real as can be.”

She shook her head. “If they knew I wanted to bite them, pinch them, hurt them, they wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

Laughter shook the air, drowning out the vitriolic arguing behind Cassie’s head. “Everyone pretends to be something else for the folks in front of them. People who can’t do that, or refuse to, think they are better, but they are not.

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