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A Monster's Final Goodbye Novel Cover

A Monster's Final Goodbye

My boyfriend, Carter, hadn't spoken to me in five days. But when my national architecture competition win went viral, he finally called-not to congratulate me, but to scream that I' d embarrassed him by not telling him first. His new girlfriend, Brittney, was the one who tagged him in my post. She was also the one whispering in his ear during the call, telling him I was making him look bad. This was the final straw in a long, cold war. But the real nightmare began when Brittney sent me a video of her torturing my dog, Apollo, in our old apartment. Then came a photo of his lifeless body. I rushed over, blinded by rage, and slammed her head against the wall with an ashtray. Carter, the man I once loved, shoved me away, calling me a maniac for hurting the woman who had just murdered my dog. He chose her. He always chose her. As I carried Apollo's cold body out the door, I made a vow. I would make them pay. I would make their lives a living hell.
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Chapter 4

Elinore POV:

The video started playing. My breath caught in my throat, a knot of ice forming in my stomach. The shaky footage showed the inside of my old apartment. No, their apartment now, a cold voice corrected me. The camera panned slowly, deliberately, towards the living room.

And there he was. Apollo. My beautiful Apollo, my rescue dog, the one I loved more than anything. He was whimpering, cowering in a corner, his tail tucked between his legs. Brittney's voice, high-pitched and taunting, floated from off-screen. "Look at him, Carter! He's so dirty! And he keeps barking at me! Your ex-girlfriend's dog is so annoying."

Then I saw it. Brittney, holding a broom, poking him, jabbing him. Apollo yelped, a sound of pure terror, trying to scramble away. Brittney giggled, a chilling, cruel sound that vibrated through my phone. "Oh, is he scared? Good. He should be. You're just like your owner, a little aggressor."

My body started to tremble, a violent tremor that shook my entire frame. "What are you doing?!" I screamed at the phone, my voice hoarse, as if she could hear me. "Stop it! Stop hurting him!"

The video continued. Brittney's face came into view, twisted into a triumphant sneer. "This is for all the times Elinore thought she was better than me," she hissed, her voice low and menacing. "For all the times she thought she had you, Carter. You chose me. And now, her precious dog gets to pay the price for her arrogance."

Apollo let out a series of desperate barks, then a truly gut-wrenching whine. The sound tore through me, ripping away whatever composure I had left. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice.

I slammed the phone down onto the table, grabbing my car keys. "Taxi!" I yelled into the empty room, my voice cracking. "I need a taxi! Now!" My hands shook so violently I could barely unlock the apartment door. Apollo. My sweet, loyal Apollo. The image of him cowering, whimpering, was burned into my mind.

As I fumbled for my wallet, my phone buzzed again. Another message from Carter. "Elinore, you better not be planning anything stupid. Apollo is fine. He just needs to learn his place."

He said Apollo was fine. But Brittney's video… My mind raced, grappling with the conflicting information, but the terror for Apollo won out. "If you hurt him, Carter, I swear to God, I will make you regret it for the rest of your life!" I typed back, my fingers flying.

No response. Just the terrifying silence.

The taxi felt like it was moving in slow motion, every red light an agonizing eternity. My phone buzzed again. It was Brittney. A picture.

A single, horrifying photo. Apollo, lying motionless on the kitchen floor. A dark, spreading stain beneath him. His eyes, usually so bright and full of life, were dull, vacant. Lifeless.

And the caption, a single, chilling phrase: "Oops. Looks like he couldn't handle the pressure. #AccidentsHappen #ByeByeDoggy"

My world tilted. The air left my lungs in a whoosh. No. No, no, no. This couldn't be real. My Apollo. My brave, loving Apollo. The dog who had protected me from a coyote, who always greeted me with boundless joy. He was gone. Killed. Tortured. By them.

A guttural scream ripped from my throat, raw and desperate. The taxi driver glanced back, startled, but I didn't care. I pounded on the window. "Faster! Faster! Please!"

When the taxi finally screeched to a halt outside my old building, I fumbled with the payment, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I burst out of the car, sprinting towards the entrance. My code. My fingers, numb with shock and rage, struggled with the keypad. Error. Error. Again. Tears streamed down my face, blinding me.

"Carter!" I shrieked, hammering on the door, my knuckles raw. "Brittney! Open this door, you monsters!" My voice was a desperate, primal sound, echoing in the quiet hallway. "I'm calling the police! I swear to God!"

The door creaked open. Carter stood there, his face pale, but his expression was not of remorse. He was wearing the same sleep shorts from Brittney's video. His eyes were cold, almost challenging. "Are you done with your little tantrum, Elinore?" he asked, his voice low, tinged with a strange mix of annoyance and something else-fear?

A sickening metallic smell hit me. Blood. My stomach lurched. My eyes darted past him, into the apartment. The kitchen doorway was visible from where I stood. And there, on the floor…

Brittney emerged from behind Carter, her eyes wide, feigning innocence. She was clutching a towel to her head, a small smear of something dark on the white fabric. "Oh, Elinore," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He was so aggressive. He just…he jumped at me. I had to defend myself."

My vision tunneled. Everything went red. He jumped at you? The words echoed in my head, a grotesque lie. Apollo, the gentlest soul. My Apollo. Tortured and killed.

A roar tore from my throat. I shoved past Carter, who stumbled back, surprised. My gaze locked onto Brittney. I saw red. Pure, unadulterated rage. I launched myself at her, my hands finding purchase in her hair.

"You bitch!" I screamed, slamming her head against the wall. The sound was sickening, a dull thud. "You absolute psycho bitch! What did you do to him?! What did you do?!"

Brittney shrieked, a high-pitched, piercing sound. "He attacked me! He attacked me! He bit me! I swear!" She clutched at Carter, tears streaming down her face, real tears this time. "Carter, help me! She's crazy! She's going to kill me!"

The memory flashed through my mind: Brittney, weeks ago, scoffing at Apollo, calling him "just a mutt." Brittney "accidentally" kicking his food bowl. Brittney complaining he smelled "too much like dog." It had been a slow, insidious torture, culminating in this horrific act.

My hand found her face, and I slapped her. Hard. The crack echoed in the room. "You lying, manipulative monster!" I roared. "You think I don't know what you are?!"

Before I could land another blow, a massive force hit me from behind. Carter. He grabbed my arms, twisting them, and shoved me hard against the opposite wall. My head smacked against the plaster, stars exploding behind my eyes. Pain shot through my skull.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Elinore?!" Carter bellowed, his face inches from mine, his eyes blazing with fury. He was cradling Brittney, stroking her hair as she sobbed into his chest. "Look what you did! Look at her head! You're insane!"

Brittney, still weeping, wailed, "She's just like her dog, Carter! Wild and dangerous! He tried to bite me, and she tried to kill me! We're not safe!"

Carter glared at me, his face filled with disgust. "You're a maniac! She's hurt! You need to apologize, Elinore! Right now!"

Apologize? To her? For this? My gaze, still swimming from the impact with the wall, drifted back to the kitchen. And there he was. Apollo. A small, still form on the cold tile. The blood, so much blood. It wasn't just a stain. It was a pool.

Something inside me snapped. The pain in my head, the throbbing in my chest, the cold, empty ache where Apollo's love used to be. It all coalesced into a single, terrifying thought.

"You killed him," I whispered, my voice raw, broken. "You both killed him. My Apollo." I raised my eyes to Carter, the last vestiges of love, of anything, burned away by the inferno of grief and rage. My voice rose, clear and chilling. "You're dead to me, Carter Mack. And I swear, I will make you pay for this. Both of you. I will make your lives a living hell!" My hand, still trembling, instinctively reached for the closest weapon. The heavy glass ashtray from the coffee table.

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