#Chapter 9: One Man’s Trash

Celeste

Under the cloak of night, I found myself kneeling by the trash cans, swiveling my head around this way and that like a cat on the prowl while the stench of rotting food wrapped around me like a shroud.

Jack had taken it upon himself to take the trash outside to be picked up by the truck in the morning. Although it was normally my job to take the trash out, along with all of the other household chores, he said that he didn’t trust me not to sneak the dress back if I did it myself.

“You were so wrong,” I whispered to myself as I rolled up my sleeves.

He was inside now, drunk already with the hockey game on full blast. Over the years, I had gotten good at slinking silently around the house to avoid his disdain. I had slipped past him easily on the way out here, and I would be able to slip past him on the way back to my room.

With one hand clamped itself firmly over my mouth and nose, blocking out the stench of the garbage and my other hand delving into the muck, my heart pounded