Chapter 8 - Corinda

Flames shoot from my hands, exploding against the skeet that is flying through the air.  We have an automatic skeet trap that I’ve programmed to throw the little discs at various speeds and heights, giving me something to vent my anger and flames on.

The ground is littered with ash and smoke rings the air around the treetops.  The heat has caused sweat to drip between my shoulder blades and down my face.  The sound of the flames eating the oxygen between my hands and my target roars in my ears.

It’s the sound of my pain.  The smell of my anger.  The heat of my hate.  

My pups.

I thought that after they were all dead that the pain would go away.  I had my revenge.  I had watched them die.  Watched them suffer a