She tells the scared puppy to begin digging while she helps with the shovel.
“You must never tell a soul what we’ve done tonight. Not ever, or Mommy will die,” she warns the puppy as they continue to dig.
With teary eyes the puppy barks in agreement, followed by whimpers of fear. After they dump the man in the grave and cover it with dirt, they rapidly go back to the house. After they walk inside, the woman searches for a towel and wipes away the blood that splattered on the wooden floor and walls. She straightens out the furniture, leaving it flawless.
After she finishes cleaning, the older puppy comes out of the room, yawning with sleepy eyes, and begins to bark. The lady picks him up and tells him everything is going to be okay from now on. The puppy looks around for his owner and begins to whine, but she quiets him down.
“Your master is gone and he’s not coming back. He said he doesn’t care about you and that he never wants to see you again,” she lies.
The puppy starts to wail and shake hysterically. She cradles him and says, “Hush now. Mommy loves you and is always going to take care of you.”
The house slowly fades away, and now Amelia’s all alone in the dark desert. She becomes frightened and starts to run. The deeper she runs into the dark, the sadder she becomes and it overwhelms her because these aren’t her feelings…they’re the dead man’s. Then she trips over a big rock and face-plants onto the cold, dark ground. She jumps up and wipes the dirt from her eyes. It’s too dark to see anything and she’s frightened that someone is there. Suddenly, sprinkles of light shower down in front of her, revealing the cactus with the pink flower. The glowing plant stands about six feet tall in the darkness. She reaches out her shaky hands to touch the pretty flower, when a bloody face appears out of nowhere.
She shoots up in her bed, terrified and trembling. She tries to catch her breath and wipes the sweat off her forehead. Her pajama top is soaking wet. With unsteady hands, she puts on a new pair of pajamas and hops back into bed. The image of the man’s bloody face sticks in her head like glue. “No,” she sighs. She didn’t want to believe the truth but now there’s no escaping it. She knows exactly what the dream meant. Even though their faces weren’t clear, it was obvious the man was Roland. She pulls the covers over her head as she imagines how Leona and Navid must have buried Roland’s body not too far from where he lived.