But Gaia focused most of her love and attention on the last gift from Andrea: Loulou. She treated the dog as if it was a human, lavished it with tenderness and loving words she should have given only Daniele and Simona.
I didn’t allow her to be alone with our children. Sybil or Mia had to be around because I still wasn’t sure if Gaia wouldn’t kill our children just to hurt me as much as Andrea’s death hurt her. I never considered her capable of infanticide, but now I wasn’t so sure. Images of my children’s lifeless bodies haunted my nightmares.
We lived a lie, which became more and more unbearable every day, but at the same time, I got used to it.
Four months after Simona’s birth, on the day of our eighth anniversary, Gaia ended it all. I’d made dinner reservations in our favorite restaurant for appearance’s sake, but the moment I came home I knew something was wrong.
It was awfully quiet in the house. Too silent. I was a man who enjoyed the quiet, but this kind of silence rang too loudly, bounced off the walls in ominous echoes.
I found Sybil asleep on the sofa. Shaking her, she came to but her eyes remained unfocused. “I’m sorry, master. I must have fallen asleep.”
“That’s not just sleep. I told you to be wary around Gaia!” I snarled, releasing her. “Where are Daniele and Simona?”
Sybil blinked, then her eyes widened with fear. I began running up the stairs then froze on the second-floor landing. Small bloody paw prints covered the beige carpet.
My heart clenched so tightly, for a moment I was sure I had a heart attack. It ran in our family, after all. I stormed toward Simona’s bedroom, ripping the door open, then stumbled toward the crib. Simona lay unmoving and everything in me stilled. In the one second I considered her death, I understood why Gaia wanted to kill herself after losing Andrea. I wrenched Simona up so fast, she came awake with an ear-splitting scream. God, it was the most beautiful sound in the world. I clutched her to my chest despite her relentless cries and kissed the top of her head over and over again.
Loulou barked then squeaked. Simona in my arms, I walked out of the room. Daniele stood in the corridor a few steps from his mother’s bedroom, clamping Loulou against his chest. The dog squirmed wildly. As I came closer, I saw its fur was covered in blood and so was its muzzle. Daniele’s arms, too, were red. I rushed toward him and knelt down, holding Simona in one arm as I touched his cheek. “Daniele, what happened?” My fingers flew over his small body, looking for injuries, but he was unscathed.
“Found Loulou. Where’s Mom?”
The dog snapped wildly until Daniele finally dropped it. It rushed through the crack of the door into Gaia’s bedroom. Daniele made a move as if to follow. I grabbed his wrist. Cold dread pierced my every bone. “No. Were you in there?”
“Mom was asleep. Is she awake now?”
My throat clogged up. “No. She’s still sleeping. Go downstairs to Sybil. She needs to clean you.”
Daniele jutted his chin out. “I want Mom.”
“Daniele, go downstairs.”
Slowly, he backed away then disappeared down the stairs. Simona had quieted in my hold. She was too small to understand, and yet I couldn’t take her into the bedroom with me knowing what I’d find.
I returned her to her crib before I slowly made my way to Gaia’s bedroom. Pushing open the door, I slipped inside. A familiar scent drifted into my nose; it had never meant anything to me, but from this day on it would. Even knowing what I’d find, the sight slammed into me like a punch to the gut. I approached the bed slowly. One of Gaia’s arms hung limply down the side of the bed, still dripping blood onto the hardwood floor. Loulou perched beneath it, licking the sticky fingertips eagerly. It sat in a puddle of blood—the amount of which told me that I didn’t have to call an ambulance. My business required I knew how much blood a human body could lose before I needed to take countermeasures to prevent a premature death—before all the necessary information was extracted from the person.
Gaia was gone.
Blood kept dripping down on Loulou, and the goddamn thing kept licking it up eagerly. Enraged, I snatched the dog up by its neck, staggered toward the door, and tossed it into the hallway. It landed with a squeak before it dashed off.
I stared down at my blood-covered hands then at the lifeless body of my wife. Slowly, I closed the door in case Daniele came by. A bloody handprint remained on the white-lacquered wood.
Daniele didn’t need to see more of this. I turned back to the gruesome scene. The red roses one of the maids had bought for Gaia as a gift for our eighth anniversary lay crumpled beside the limp body. Red roses to match the blood-stained sheets and her white dress. A desperate attempt to mend a marriage that couldn’t be mended. Proof of my own failure.
Seconds ticked by as I regarded my wife. Even lifeless, she was still beautiful. She’d chosen to wear her wedding dress when she killed herself. It still fit her perfectly. The crystals on her bodice glittered in the glow of the lamp. A few of them were sprinkled with blood, making them appear like rubies. They matched the gemstones in her necklace. She’d even curled her
