Lake Casualty

Chapter 1 - Michael and Stella

Michael DiGregario, a large man at six feet; pushing fifty, was a musclebound, blue collar man who saw his fair share of misery and tragedy. What no one could do, was call him a terrible father. The day his daughter, Stella, a precocious, 9 and three quarters, came home from the hospital; his own beating heart must've stopped at least three times.

His daughter was the whole world to him. From the day she was born, Stella Evelyn DiGregario was a precious gift from God. She was a precious gift from his late wife, Cecilia Brown. Her skin was the color of mahogany and her ability to outsass him was legendary. There were the long, very brooding glares they would encounter from time to time - but she was his soulmate until the day she died - ovarian cancer just two years before.

Stella was force of nature herself and was just an angel trapped in this earthly existence. She was the brightest girl in her fourth grade class. A natural artist, singer and orator. She was elected as her class president and her goal was to become the United States' first ever female US President.

So, it seems almost a cruel twist of fate when she began to feel sick herself. High fever and chills. Painful urination and then, the worst part - bleeding. She was kept out of out of school for months. After having to bury Cecilia and having to deal with the biases and prejudices and even the cruel browbeating by both sides of his and her family, it seemed like a ghastly joke to have his daughter go through this latest trauma. As a way to take her mind off thing, they would make their way out to a small lake for picnics and decompression. Lake Ferito was a large nook that seemed to have menace all throughout it's history. It was the sight of many drownings, muggings, piranha and electric eel attacks. Many ambulances and even police had to frequent Lake Ferito quite often, which had the strange, sad distinction of being translated with no actual subtlety...as The Casualty Lake.

Cecilia didn't go quietly. The nights at home were filled with shrieks of sharp, inflated, physical pain and moments of profanity-filled dementia. The hospital visits were endless and even exhausting, to the point of many nights, Michael would have to have a doctor keep him and Stella overnight, because of stressed-induced heart palpitations and anxiety attacks the equivalent of chronic angina.

Michael had finally had taken a leave of absence from his high school teaching position; paid at first, but the Board of Education didn't allow that to last forever. Despite his hulking, almost wrestler-like appearance, he was a pretty decent English teacher, able to dissect Hawthorne's "The Scarlet Letter" to cry openly when reading Shakespeare's "Romeo & Juliet" to his sophomore class. The official firing came in a text from assistant principal Horatio Cruz that he was canned with no more discretionary funds at his disposal. The hospital bills were already piling and Cecilia couldn't afford hospice. She died, screaming in agony on a urine, shit-stained, blood-soaked mattress sheets.

Michael took local odd jobs; one as demeaning as it was - a porter in a local chain supermarket called Buy N Bag. The manager, a stout man named Charles McGinley; who knew Cecilia from her youth, liked Michael enough to promote him up the chain in less than three months to perishable manager. Stella attended third grade regularly and all seemed fine - until the calls from the nurse's office were a frequent distraction and finally forcing Charles to do the inevitable. Except this time, it was face-to-face wit all the screaming and shouting that anyone could do in a single breath.

Church had been a regular thing for Michael and Stella; but after the long absences, hospital stays and Michael's big scene with the big Reverend Val Torres over what he felt was the sanctimony of the Apostle Paul in 2 Corinthians 1 and his admonition that "God doesn't give you anymore suffering than you can handle". Punching him in the face, didn't help put him in any good standing. He was told to never return; ditto that to Stella.

Stella had been bleeding vaginally for months. Not period blood. It would coarse thick and often black in color. Her oncologist had told the young sprite that she had an inoperable tumor in her "who who" as he delicately put it. Stella took the news better than her father. Clearly, God's gifts were really bringing Michael to the brink of insanity. Her tenth birthday steadfastly approaching; he promised her party to be out at Lake Ferito. Michael would give her daughter one last birthday party. Indeed - it was the very last one.

Chapter Two - Lake Ferito

It was only two days until Stella would sputter onto her tenth year. The plan for a birthday bash, much like the ones she had with her mother and Michael, was already past the point of oblivion. Michael had already given up on another job search. He got up weekly after his latest downing of cheap, stomach-turning whiskey (already nine shots and still lucid) and made his way to Stella's room. She was playing some candy colored phone app game on her smartphone. It was the only thing she seemed to enjoy and took her mind off all the tragedy surrounding her.

"Sweetie, get your jacket. We're going to the lake."

Almost no real reaction from her. "Why?"

"It's a surprise." he said without any emotion.

Stella remained still and continued playing with her jaunty-jingled video.

"Hon, did you hear what I said? We're going to the lake."

"Daddy, I don't feel good. I feel very weak. I just wanna stay home." she whined, almost sincere about not budging

"Honey, you're ruining the surprise!"

A long sigh from Stella. 'Okay, Daddy - what's the big surprise?"

Michael looked at his daughter's piercing amber eyes and her very light, olive skin.

"Your birthday party is today!" he blurted.

"Yeah, right." she retorted and went back to her phone game.

"No, I'm serious. I called Lilly, Javi, Terry, Piper, Brian, Marty and their folks. They're on their way there now."

Stella eyed her father with disbelief. She knew that her father's standing had pretty much left them fending for themselves. They were pariahs, both.

"Daddy, I don't feel well. I'm too weak and even this new medication makes me vomit and very dizzy."

Okay, I'll get you your jacket and put it on you."

"I'm also chilly, Daddy, and not from the weather."

She was right, it was a breezy spring day. Up to of about 75 degrees. Sunny and cool.

"Sweetie..."

He took a deep breath. Michael went for the mother of all lies.

"I hired a magician for your party. You like magic?"

Stella eye-rolled. Magic was an alien concept for her.

"If he's a real magician; he can make me feel better again."

"Oh, I promise you, he can and he will". Stella eyed her father with love and concern.

"I know you're not happy, Daddy. I don't think that there's really a party for me. Nobody wants to know us anymore. It's been this way since Mommy got sick and died and it's still the same even now."

He was busted. Tears began to flow from his eyes and down his cheeks.

"Can you come with me anyway? Just indulge your old man. It's better than staying here and rotting."

Stella got up out of her bed. She walked into her closet and quietly, but in enormous pain, took her pink jacket; the one her mother gave her, before she went to meet Jesus.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetie? Michael asked as he drove.

"Can the magician make me better?"

A quiet breath.

"We're going to believe with all our might. Just like in Peter Pan. We'll clap loud and he'll make you better."

"I was thinking more like when Jesus cured the sick and healed the blind - like the big book Mommy gave me to read when she finally went to see Him."

This tore Michael's heart out. He choked back on his sobs.

Stella stared quietly at her father as if she were unsifting the madness that was somehow revealing to her.

"Daddy..."

"Yes, hon." A tense silence.

"I love you. Always."

Michael did his best to hide his pain. His tears were new and fresh.

"I love you too, sugar".

They arrived at the lake. The sight of many a joyful moment and a bevvy of tragedy; was where it should be done.

Chapter Three - For Love

The drive was excruciating with Stella screaming and crying, while bleeding through her panty pads. Her screams and whimpers constantly making Michael pause for a cleaning and a hug.

They arrived to their favorite nook where the centuries old sycamore tree had been the sight of many family gatherings. It had been the place where first kisses had happened. Many break-ups, many a hidden sexual encounter that had resulted in mostly unwanted pregnancies, many a violent altercation - one in particular, a young 16-year-old, gay, black teenager who had his head bashed in by a trio of huge, redneck truckers. His white boyfriend having to watched and then kicked brutally in the stomach and groin and then left to die with the trio of monsters laughing, drinking and masturbating over their near dead bodies.

The young boys succumbed to their injuries and the scum were never found and tried for their crimes.

This was not the case with Michael. This tree was indeed the picnic date that led to his very intimate act with Cecilia that helped to conceive his beautiful young daughter.

Michael got out of the car, cradled Stella in his muscular arms; grabbed a towel and headed for the murky and unclean lake.

"Where's everybody?" Stella inquired, already reading into the charade.

A solemn beat. "They'll be here soon."

Stella studied her father's face. She felt an inner shiver. This party was a magic party indeed. It would take place in heaven.

The wind was picking up from the north. Stella began to shiver. It was almost by complete shock that she saw her father undressing.

"Daddy...?" Stella managed, all beyond confused.

"Sweetie, I need you to take off your clothes for daddy"

She laughed with embarrassment - then, blushed. She felt the nausea intensify.

Michael had stripped to his bare, hairy ass and let all of his manhood for all his daughter to see.

"Daddy! I can see your dangle!" She blurted, laughing to almost tears.

"Please do what Daddy tells you!" he said, in a menacing tone. One that she was able to hone in on why he was demanding such a wretched request.

Stella attempted to take off her parka and made her way to her rainbow blouse. She began shaking and soon, she was crying. Sobbing loudly.

'Do you need me to help you?" Michael asked her gently.

"Yes." she said, quietly.

A long and painful silence.

Her eyes didn't leave the long, metal object wrapped around his neck.

Michael stared off into the distance. He heard the faint sounds of children's laughter. Stella's last birthday party becoming more and vivid in his mind. His tears flowing steadily. He saw Cecilia, dressed in her tight white blouse, her favorite blue demin jeans, carrying the largest cake with 8, silky, orange candles glowing. A wide, beautiful smile etched on her face. Then, there was Stella with the brightest and joyous smile. Her years already being delineated that very day. The children and adults laughing, singing, playing loud rap music.

"I miss you, my love", Cecilia said to him. His eyes watered and he wailed.

They were both as God intended; naked as they had come into the world. Stella shivered as they made their way into the frigid water.

"Daddy, please-"

"I know, I know. It's cold."

"Please, Daddy, I don't want this!"

Her eyes didn't leave the chain around Michael's very thick neck. He held her body for warmth. The ice water made them both shiver and chatter. Michael dipped low to immerse both he and Stella were up to neck.

In his haste, Michael pulled the chain off his neck. It was a Swiss Army knife that he had since his days in the Army ROTC.

*click* to open the blade.

Stella eyed her father in terror! "Daddyyyyy!!"

"Sweetie! We are going to heaven to see Mommy"

"Not like this! Please!"

"Baby, I cannot stop now! We need to go now!"

"Daddy!!

"Mommy has your birthday party in heaven with the angels! She told me so herself! Now, trust Daddy, I promise you it won't hurt!"

With a full yank, Michael exposed his daughter's silken, stately neck. His hand tightening her mouth like a vice.

"Hey! Hey, you!"

The voice had bellowed from several yards. It came from a stout, strong portly man wearing a park rangers uniform. He brandished his 9mm glock from his holster. There were some locals who had seen the bizarre sight of a man taking off his clothes and his daughter's and heading into the lake. Many were fearing it was sexual in nature.

"Get out of the water, sir and please, bring the girl with you! Do not force me to shoot you!"

Michael eyed his reason for living one last time. Her eyes already dilating from the hypothermia. Weakly, they were going to sleep in the tight grip of his hand over her mouth.

"Sir! I will not repeat myself! Please get out of the water!" The park ranger boomed with his tight, thick fingers pressed against the glock.

A deep sigh and a breath. Michael kissed his daughter's forehead.

"Happy birthday, my angel."

His hand felt warm as the fine blade pierced through his angel's skin and her warm blood flowed through.

*pop pop pop pop pop pop*

Michael's brains splattered all throughout the crimson-filled lake. Their love would remain forever eternal.