It all started because the landscaper told her I’d ruined his prize-winning roses. That was the day Mom planted Dad in the dirt. I watched the muddy slush swallow his head, and I ran to her bedroom door, pounding until my small fists ached. "Mommy, Toby can’t pull Daddy out! I promise I won’t play in the garden anymore! Please, just pull him out!" From behind the heavy oak door, I didn’t hear my mother. I heard the landscaper’s low, rhythmic voice. Then, Mom’s voice cut through, sharp and jagged with a sob-like rage. "You useless little mistake! You’re just like your father!" she screamed through the wood. "Let him stay in the dirt and think about what he’s done!" A few days later, a storm tore through the valley. The torrential rain washed away the topsoil, and Daddy’s head emerged from the earth. He was "hosting" the landscaper for a viewing of the blooms. "Go on," Mom said, nudging me toward the muddy pit. "Tell your father you’re sorry. He’s in a good mood today; he might actually forgive you for being such a brat." I stared into the hole. "Daddy drank too much water," I whispered. "He’s starting to sprout." 1 Mrs. Benson from next door was passing by our collapsed fence when she saw me. I was sitting in the mud, gnawing on a tiny, pale mushroom that had pushed its way up near the rosebushes. She froze, then lunged forward, hooking her finger into my mouth to fish out the half-chewed fungus. "What are you doing? You can’t eat that, honey. Where are your parents?" I was so hungry the world felt like it was spinning on a tilted axis. "Mommy is the gardener’s assistant now. And Daddy… Daddy’s in the garden drinking water." "Drinking water?" Mrs. Benson started to say, but then she recoiled, gagging. "Oh god… how long has it been since anyone took out the trash here? The smell…" The rain had carved a deep vein into the soil. A flash of lightning ripped across the sky, illuminating the pit. It lit up the back of a head. Hair tangled with wet grass roots, the face pressed deep into the muck. Daddy was sleeping. I’d told him I was hungry, but for the first time in my life, he hadn’t gotten up to make me grilled cheese. Mrs. Benson took one step closer to the edge, peered down, and let out a shriek that sounded like a dying bird. she collapsed onto the muddy grass. "Lord have mercy!" she wailed, clutching her chest. "Arthur! That’s Arthur!" "They buried him alive? My god, poor Toby… he thinks his father is just drinking..." She began to sob, her eyes filled with a terrifying kind of pity as she looked at me. With trembling hands, she pulled out her phone and called the men in uniform. When they arrived, they dug Daddy out. They started to put him into a long, heavy black bag. "Don’t take him! I’ll be good!" I screamed, lunging for the bag. "I won’t go in the garden anymore! I’ll go inside right now, I promise!" The backyard filled with the sound of grown-ups crying. Someone—a woman in a uniform—held me so tight I could barely breathe. Mrs. Benson knelt beside me. She told me Daddy was tired of being a person. She said that from now on, the worms in the earth, the trees in the wind, the flowers in the garden—that would be Daddy. He would watch over me quietly. But I didn’t want a ghost. I wanted the man who tucked me in. "Daddy! I want this Daddy!" I kicked and thrashed against Mrs. Benson’s embrace. As the sirens faded into the distance, she and I sat on the ground, covered in filth. I knew then that Daddy wasn't coming back to wash my grass-stained clothes ever again. She carried me into her house. Behind us, the night sky erupted in a brilliant display of fireworks, lighting up half the city in neon pinks and golds. I could hear the neighbors gossiping over the fence, their voices carried by the wind. "Talk about a change in fortune. Some people have all the luck—spend a few months growing flowers and suddenly you’re royalty." "Tell me about it! I heard that landscaper is the new 'Golden Boy' of the floral world. His patron is throwing money around the city like it’s confetti to celebrate. That pretty-faced boy really hit the jackpot…" I knew who they were talking about. My mother. Mrs. Benson took me back to our mansion to gather my things, but the house felt hollow and terrifying. She told me to call my mother. To tell her they had taken Dad away. One call. Two calls. No answer. Finally, Mrs. Benson snapped and called from her own number. When Mom finally picked up and heard the news, she didn't scream. She laughed. "Look, Mrs. Benson, I appreciate the neighborly concern, but you can tell Arthur that faking his own death is a bit much, even for him." "I’m busy. Tell Arthur to grow up. We’ll be home soon." Mrs. Benson started screaming into the phone, her voice shaking with rage. "Fine!" Mom shouted back. "Yes, I put him in the dirt. It was a lesson! The soil was loose; Dominic went back to check on him before we left, and he said Arthur was already out and brooding in the tool shed. Tell Arthur I still love him, but he needs to stop testing me. I’ll be back for Valentine’s Day to make it up to him. When you marry into a family like mine, you learn to follow the rules." I wanted to tell her that the landscaper had used a shovel to pack the dirt down hard. I wanted to show her my fingernails, torn and bleeding from trying to dig him out. But before Mrs. Benson could find the words to scream back, the line went dead. "Grammy, she hung up," I whispered, tugging on Mrs. Benson’s sleeve. "This is murder," she breathed, her eyes wet. "This is… god, it’s a nightmare." She pulled me into her lap. "We’re getting you out of here, honey. This house is poisoned." She helped me call my real grandmother—my dad’s mother. She was out in the countryside caring for my great-grandmother, but she promised she’d be there in two days. 2 When the police came back to the house, Mom was still gone. They handed me a small, heavy box. "This is your father," they said. Daddy had sprouted, but he hadn't grown into a tree. He had shrunk until he fit inside a box. Mrs. Benson stayed with me in the big, empty mansion. "Your mother… she’s lost to us. I’ll help you, Toby. We’ll give your father a dignified goodbye." She and a few of Dad’s old friends set up a small memorial in the foyer. They began sorting through his things. "That belongs to the landscaper," I said, pointing to a designer coat. "That one too." Every time I corrected them, they sighed—that heavy, wet sigh that adults use when they can't handle the truth. "Daddy says sighing makes you old," I told them. "I know, honey," one woman whispered, her back to me. I knew she was crying. I pretended not to notice. Just like Daddy used to pretend he wasn't crying when he thought I was asleep, back when the landscaper first moved in. The night before we were supposed to lay the box to rest, Mom came home. Her belly was slightly rounded now. Dominic, the landscaper, held her as if she were made of glass. They were pressed together, their lips moving against each other in a messy, wet way that sounded loud in the quiet house. I stood in front of Dad’s memorial box. I didn't want him to see this. "Ah!" "You little creep! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Dominic hissed. He lunged forward and backhanded me across the face. I hit the floor hard. Mom just watched him with an approving smile. Clink. One of my baby teeth hit the hardwood, slick with blood. Dominic flipped on the lights. "Madeline, look at this! He’s got funeral kitsch all over the foyer. He’s trying to curse the baby!" Mom’s face contorted with fury. She grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and began dragging me toward the stairs. "Arthur, enough with the lies!" she screamed, thinking my father was hiding somewhere. "No wonder Toby won’t admit he ruined Dominic’s roses. He’s exactly like you! Liars, both of you!" I struggled, my knees scraping against the carpet, then the sharp edge of the wooden stairs. My pajamas tore. I felt the warm sting of blood trailing behind us, making the drag smoother, easier. She threw me against my bedroom door. "I’m not lying! Daddy sprouted!" I sobbed. "He’s downstairs!" Mom let out a cold, mocking laugh. "Sprouted? Dominic saw him walk out of that garden with his own eyes! You’re still lying!" "I am going to beat the honesty back into you if it’s the last thing I do!" She grabbed a hanger from the closet—a bright blue, limited-edition hanger Dad had bought for me. I reached for it, wanting to save the gift, but the plastic whistled through the air and snapped against my back. "It hurts! Please, stop, Miss Gardener! Don’t hit me!" "I don’t want a mommy anymore! You can have him! Give the landscaper everything! Just give me back my hanger!" She hit me harder. "Calling me 'Miss'? Is that what Arthur taught you? Fine. If that’s how he wants to play it!" My back felt wet, just like my knees. I lost count of the strikes. Eventually, the plastic snapped, the jagged edge digging into my skin. "You like phones so much?" she panted, shoving my kid-sized smartwatch into my face. "Call him! Call your father and tell him to stop this ghost act!" "I’m not lying," I choked out. "Dominic planted him. I couldn't pull him out. He was too deep." Mom paused, then gripped the broken hanger again. "Dominic said he was just scaring him. He went back to check! You’re both trying to ruin him because you’re jealous!" "I told Arthur I’d be home for Valentine’s Day! To have this little patience, to pull a stunt like this… it’s disgusting." She swung one last time, the broken end of the hanger catching me right in the forehead. "Like father, like son," she spat. "Tell your dad to come down and apologize to Dominic, or you stay in this room forever." Blood blurred my vision. "Daddy is right there," I whispered to the empty room. "He’s in the box. He’s never going to speak again." 3 Suddenly, the door flew open. "An urn?" Dominic’s voice was high and panicked. He suddenly hit the floor with a thud. "Madeline, I feel sick! I can't breathe! Call the doctor!" Mom’s rage vanished, replaced by frantic concern. She immediately called the family’s private physician. As she stepped over me to carry Dominic downstairs, her foot caught my chest, knocking me back against the glass railing of the landing. "I’m scared," I whimpered. No one answered. But a few minutes later, Mom came back up. She didn't hug me. She scooped me up like a sack of flour and carried me to the basement clinic where the doctor was waiting. "Harvest his marrow stem cells," she commanded. "Dominic is perfectly healthy, but he’s suddenly anemic. It has to be the stress these two put him through. A 'spiritual' clash. We need to boost Dominic’s system." The doctor, a man named Dr. Miller, hesitated. He looked at my pale, bruised face. "The boy is malnourished, Madeline. He hasn't slept. Stem cells aren't for 'boosting' a healthy adult, and taking them from a child this small is..." Mom’s eyebrows drew together into a terrifying line. "Can you do it or not?" Dr. Miller looked at me with an apology in his eyes. They strapped me to the table with leather belts. When the needle went in, a scream tore out of me that I didn't recognize as my own. "Daddy! Daddy, save me!" "Mommy! Please! It hurts! It hurts so much!" Mom just paced the hallway. "Hurry up," she snapped. "He’s too loud." The world went quiet then. Daddy, you said Mommy worked late just for us. You said she was so happy when I was born. Was that a lie too? "There, see? If you don't scream, it goes faster," the doctor whispered. My body was slick with sweat. My head felt like it was going to explode. But as the needle withdrew, Dominic’s voice drifted in from the next room. "Madeline, I’m still so scared. What if Arthur tries to hurt me again?" Mom didn't hesitate. "Take more. Create a reserve for Dominic." Dr. Miller’s hand froze. "Madeline, he can't take any more. His vitals are dropping. If we continue, he might not make it." She waved a hand dismissively. "Arthur is out there playing God, scaring my partner. Let Toby pay the debt his father owes." The needle went back in. "Toby! Toby, wake up!" I opened my eyes to see Dr. Miller’s panicked face. "She’s gone, kid. We have to stop. If I hadn't given you that shot of epinephrine, you… you were gone." Mom’s face appeared in the doorway, but before she could speak, Dominic let out a soft moan from the recovery bed. She turned back to him instantly. "Madeline, can we leave? I’m so cold. I’m scared of what’s waiting out there… those funeral things…" She pulled him into her arms, cooing like she was talking to a toddler. "Don't worry, my love. I’m here." "I’ll go clear out all that dead-man trash. Just wait for me." She started to leave, but Dominic grabbed her hand. "No, don't! If Toby sees you, he’ll think… he’ll get the wrong idea." Mom glared at me over her shoulder. "Let him. I’ve indulged him enough." She picked up a heavy metal stool from the lab and walked toward the stairs. 4 Panic gave me a sudden, sharp strength. I rolled off the table, hitting the floor with a groan. Every inch of my back screamed in protest, but I began to crawl. "Please don't!" I croaked. "Mrs. Benson said that’s Daddy’s new house! Don't touch him!" "You've got a lot of nerve," Mom said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous hiss. She kicked me squarely in the chest. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth as I was thrown backward. "Enough, Toby. The lie is over." She turned and marched upstairs, leaving me gasping for air. "Toby, don't move, let me help you," Dr. Miller whispered. I pushed his hand away. "Daddy! Daddy!" By the time I crawled into the foyer, the memorial cloth was shredded. The incense burner was shattered on the floor. Mom was holding the box. I threw myself at her, clinging to her leg. "That’s Daddy! He’s inside!" "Give him back! Please, just give him back to me!" "I’ll admit it! I lied! I’m a bad boy! Just give me the box!" I saw her hesitate. For a second, her grip loosened. But then Dominic appeared behind her. "Such a cheap little box," he mused. "Arthur couldn't even pick out something decent for his own prank." He reached out and flipped the lid open. "What is this? Gray dust? This is what made me so sick? This… dirt?" He tilted the box. Daddy’s ashes began to spill, drifting through the air like gray snow. I let out a guttural scream. "Give it back!" "You're a monster! You buried him! Give him back!" "Oh!" Dominic cried out, stumbling backward though I hadn't even touched him. The box fell. It hit the floor with a hollow thump, and a cloud of gray dust covered me. "Daddy..." I scrambled on the floor, my small hands trying to sweep the powder back together. But the dust was so fine, slipping into the cracks of the hardwood. The more I tried to gather him, the less there was. Tears began to fall, hot and fast. I choked back a sob, trying to stop the water. "No… I’ll get him wet. I have to keep him dry." Mom didn't even look at the floor. She was too busy fussing over Dominic. "Look at you! Acting! Still acting!" "You’re five years old, Toby. You’re too old for this. If you hurt Dominic or the baby again, I’ll drain every drop of marrow you have left." Dominic’s oily voice cut in. "Be gentle, Madeline. He’s at the age where he remembers things. You don't want him hating his new little brother." Mom scoffed. "You're right. He’s spent too much time with his father. He needs discipline." "Let him spend some time with Titan. Titan will teach him how to be a good boy." Dominic led Titan into the room. The Doberman was nearly as tall as I was, all corded muscle and bared teeth. He looked at me with cold, hungry eyes. Dominic leashed me to the same post as the dog and set a bowl of food down—next to the dog's bowl. Titan lunged for his food, his saliva splashing into my small plastic bowl. "Eat," Mom said. "And stop looking like a victim. No one is hurting you." "Your father can call me and apologize for this 'death' stunt whenever he’s ready. Until then, you stay here. Dominic is far more forgiving than I am." The house went silent. My stomach twisted. I hadn't eaten since the day Daddy 'sprouted.' I was so hungry I couldn't see straight. But every time I reached for the bowl, Titan curled his lip and let out a low, vibrating growl that shook my bones. "Eat!" Mom yelled from the other room. "Titan is perfectly trained. Stop being a coward." She and Dominic walked out the front door, leaving me alone in the dark with the beast. I waited until I couldn't stand it anymore. I reached for a piece of kibble. Titan didn't growl this time. He lunged. His teeth sank into my shoulder, and he tore backward, taking a piece of me with him. I was going to be Titan's dinner. The pain was so bright I couldn't even scream. But then, the front door burst open. "Sarah!" I gasped. My grandmother was there. She didn't hesitate. She began beating the dog with her heavy handbag, screaming with a primal rage until Titan backed away. She gathered me into her arms, shaking so hard I thought we’d both break. "God forgive them! Those monsters!" "My baby… my poor baby!" She carried me to a waiting car and sped to the emergency room. The nurses cried when they saw me. The doctor pulled my grandmother aside and asked if they should call the police. "I already called them," she spat. "And I’m not stopping until they’re in cages." Once I was stable, Sarah moved me to a private hospital near her home in the country. "It’s better there, Toby. We’re going to get you healthy again." I clutched the small box—the one with just a dusting of gray powder left at the bottom—and nodded. It was Valentine’s Day. Dominic was twirling in front of a mirror, holding up a blood-red silk dress for Madeline. "Madeline, what do you think of this for tonight?" Madeline barely looked at him. "Who said I was spending tonight with you?" "But… you’ve been doing your makeup all morning. The flowers, the reservations… I thought we were having a candlelight dinner. Do you have a meeting?" She straightened her blazer, her eyes cold in the mirror. "I told you. It’s time. I’m going home." "Don't worry. You and the baby will be taken care of." She drove back to the mansion, but the silence that met her was deafening. "Arthur! Enough!" she shouted into the foyer. "I’m home. If you don't come out right now, I’m leaving for good." She sent her staff to search every room. Nothing. Furious, she turned to leave, but the butler stumbled into the room, breathless. "Catch your breath, man. What is it?" The butler didn't speak. He dropped to his knees. "Ma'am… Toby is gone. His grandmother took him. I couldn't stop her." Madeline laughed. "Of course. He’s involving his mother now. Arthur, this is pathetic! Using a child to win an argument?" She shouted at the empty air, then looked down at the butler. "Fine. Tell him I’m here. Tell him if he apologizes, I’ll forget the whole thing. The baby will even call him 'Dad.' He’s at the old farmhouse, isn't he? I’ll go get him." The butler was shaking, sweat pouring down his face. It took him a long time to find his voice. "Ma'am… Mr. Arthur has been dead for weeks."
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