London, England

Asher vaulted himself over the fence, clutching his prizes to his chest. He stifled a laugh as he heard the police men run past the other side of the fence. Once their footsteps were almost inaudible he turned down the street he had hopped into and broke into a run. His mother would have to be happy today with him bringing home a bottle of red wine, a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and large blanket. He tore down the street, his long legs taking the biggest steps he could make. Sharply turning a corner he skidded to a stop. There was a police man standing across the street at Mr. Gibbon's house.

Asher swallowed. He would never know what Asher had done if he didn't see him to ask. He ran down a driveway and into the backyard, where he hopped their fence. He hopped three more fences before he finally landed in his own backyard. He stood on the dying brown grass for a moment, trying to peer down the tiny alley that separated the houses and around the corner. Unable to see down the alley he cursed and stayed motionless. He ticked off the seconds in his head, waiting a minute before moving.

He sprinted to his back door, picked the lock and slipped into the quiet, dimply lit, damp kitchen. He would have gone through the front door with his key but he was afraid that the police officer would see him "Mom," he called softly. No answer. He bit his lip and prayed that she hadn't left on one of her drunken adventures. "Mom!" he called again, this time a little louder.

"I'm in here!" his mother yelled. Asher cringed. Her voice was slurred and loud compared to the silence that held the house captive and Asher could now smell the familiar stench of alcohol. "Did you get it?" she screamed.

Asher carefully made his way to the living room, where his mother had permanently stationed herself two years ago. "I got us something to eat and-"

"Forget about that!" his mother shouted at him. Asher stepped into the doorway of the living room where his mother was sprawled out on the pull out couch, an empty bottle in her hand. A name was scrawled across the bottle in sloppy writing: Natalie. Asher didn't understand why she had written her name on the bottle. Did she think that he'd mistake it for his own? Not likely.

Her eyes went from narrow her to wide as she spied the treasures in Asher's arms. Her arm reached out, hand grasping as though she hoped to reach the bottle from across the room. "You need to eat first," Asher told her. She laughed. "Give it here boy," he snapped, her mood switching back to angry. Asher shook his head, though he knew it was a dangerous move. When his mom was drunk she was unpredictable: she had mood swings, she could get violent, she could run away. "You need to eat first," he repeated, a bit firmer this time. His mother looked up at him, murder in her eyes. "Then I'll give you the wine." His mother's eyes softened. "Alright," she said simply. Asher sighed and headed to the kitchen when he heard yelling coming through the badly repaired window.

"You cannot just take her away from me! She's the only protection I got, the only family I got!" A lump formed in Asher's throat. He recognized the yelling voice. Leaving the toaster to do its thing he cautiously went to the front of the house and peeked out through the curtain that covered front door's window. The cop across the street had his partner holding onto the leash of Mr. Gibbon's dog. The cop himself was holding an arm out across Mr. Gibbon's chest as he reached for his pup.

"I'll be right back Mom," Asher said. Of course there was no answer. He unlocked the door and stepped out onto their old, sagging porch which was riddled with holes from water rotting through. He navigated his way around the holes and tender spots and went down the front steps. Without checking the street he darted across to where the cops and Mr. Gibbon were. "Um, excuse me officer?" Asher asked quietly. The officer speaking to Mr. Gibbon looked over at Asher. "Can I help you young man?" he replied.

Asher crossed his fingers behind his back. "I don't mean to stick my nose in other people's business, but I couldn't help but hearing your disagreement-" "Asher! Please! Please tell him that they can't take my Lacy, they just can't!" Asher looked over at Mr. Gibbon, whose red and puffy eyes were glistening with tears. Asher had always tried to help the broken, abused old man. His wife had left him a year ago with absolutely nothing, and, knowing what it was like to not have anyone, Asher had started to help him when he could. See if he could nab him some extra stuff on his outings, stop over for a visit, take Lacy for walks. That sort of thing.

"Officer, what Mr. Gibbon is saying is true. Lacy is his only company, and she protects him. This is a real dangerous part of the city you know." The officer sighed. "Son, why don't you go back home," he said. Asher didn't move. "Officer, why exactly are you taking Lacy away?" he asked. The officer looked to his partner who put the whining dog into the back of the squad car. "We are detaining Mr. Gibbon's dog because this dog is dangerous. It attacked a young man on Wednesday and witnesses state that Mr. Gibbon didn't do anything to prevent the attack," the officer replied sharply. "Now, son, I would suggest that you go home right now."

Asher looked from Lacy to Mr. Gibbon, then the cop. "I was there officer. The man Lacy attacked was Matt Shalvo, a known drug dealer in the area. If you want, I can tell you where he lives, but for a price," Asher replied, a smile tugging on his lips. The officer looked from him to Mr. Gibbon, who was beaming at Asher. The officer sighed. "A drug dealer or a dog protecting her master? What will it be officer? People in this area already don't like law enforcement and if they hear that you took the dog over the dealer then well…" Asher shrugged. "Now listen hear young man! I can pull you down to the station right now based on that!" the officer roared. Asher looked up at him innocently, his bright blue eyes shining, but inside he was thinking: Why don't you? There's no point for me to stay here. Mom wouldn't notice if I left, she doesn't care that all I think about are ways to help her. I bet that she thinks she'd be better off if I wasn't around.

"What did I do?" he asked sweetly. "You know what you did! You just threatened a police officer! " The officer grabbed hold of Asher's upper arm, but Asher was used to people roughing him up so he didn't react, he simply replied: "All I said was that the neighbourhood would be unhappy if you took Lacy away." The officer glared down at him and Asher stared back up. "So what will it be?" Asher asked. "The dog or the dealer?" The office released him, slightly pushing him back. "Fine kid, where is this Matt Shalvo?" he replied, a defeated tone in his voice. Asher smiled as he pointed behind him. "He hides out in the shed behind number 25 Sir," he said cheerfully. "His grow-op I think is in the basement of the house." "Does anyone live on the property?" the officer asked, jotting down notes on a pad of paper. Asher shook his head, his blonde curls bouncing.

The officer sighed. "Fine then. Release the dog." His partner opened the door to the car and Lacy bounded out and over to Mr. Gibbon. Asher noticed that the partner hadn't turned and the uniform was so straight that he couldn't tell whether it was a man or a woman. He shrugged and looked at Mr. Gibbon and Lacy. He smiled at the reunion but then noticed the cop staring at him. "If this is false," he said, waving his pad. "Then I'll be back for the dog." With that he and his partner got in the squad car and drove off. Asher sighed and fell back onto the tiny patch of green grass that was Mr. Gibbon's lawn.

He looked over at Mr. Gibbon, who was hugging and kissing Lacy, running his hands through her blonde fur. He looked up and met Asher's gaze, his eyes brimming with tears. "Thank you so much. You are a lucky charm, a saint, and angel sent from heaven." Asher smiled kindly. "It was nothing, and it'll be great to see Matt behind bars." He sighed and looked up at the sky, which was slowly turning red with the upcoming sunset. "I have to be heading home…" he mumbled to himself. Mr. Gibbon was quiet and Asher looked over at him.

"I'll see you tomorrow, ok?" Asher confirmed. Mr. Gibbon just smiled and nodded. Asher stood up and brushed himself off. Walking across the road, he dragged his feet, not wanting to return to his mom and her needy, drunken ways. Stopped at the beginning of his cracked pathway he gazed up at his old, beaten down house. Closing his eyes he wished that he could leave and never to come back. To restart his life and not know what is was like to have to over-worry about someone.

But then he reopened his eyes and knew in his heart that his wish would never happen. Not until his mom passed, which could be at anytime. And even when she finally did, what if it was too late? What if some things that he had done were irreversible? What if it wasn't possible to start his life over? He shook those thoughts away, roughly shoved them to the back of his mind where they could rot.

He carefully walked back up the stairs and let himself into the house, locking it firmly behind him. As he made his way to the kitchen he peeked into the living room to check on his mom. He found her passed out on the couch, a half a piece of toast on a plate and the new bottle of wine on its side, a dead solider. Asher sighed, half in relief, half in annoyance. He was glad that his mom had actually gotten up off her butt and gotten herself something to eat, but he was annoyed that she couldn't wait. When he did something for someone, he did it all the way.

Knowing she wouldn't wake until late the next day he went to the kitchen and made himself something to eat, then went upstairs to his bedroom. He entered his room and sat down on his mattress to eat his dinner. After a couple minutes his eyes began to get heavy and he yawned, stretching his arms above his head. Maybe he could have a small nap...

He woke up a couple hours later to someone heavily banging on the door. He jumped out of bed, sending his plate and uneaten peanut butter sandwich falling to the dirty floor. Sprinting down the stairs he fumbled with the locks on the door before wrenching it open. "It's past midnight. What do you-?" Asher stopped midsentence as he looked up at the person he was yelling at.

His breath caught in his throat: it was the cop's partner from the day before. Except that he hadn't realized at that time that the partner was female. Asher blinked and stammered for something to say. The lady put a hand lightly on the top of his head. "Rest easy," she said. "I just want to talk to your mother." Asher looked around the small hallway, then back to the beautiful lady in front of him. "She... she's asleep. That was... that was why I... why I-" "Why you were trying to get the door, yes, I understand my dear. And you say that your mother is sleeping?" Asher nodded and the lady smiled like that was the answer she was hoping to hear.

"Is it possible to wake her?" she asked. Asher shook his head furiously. "No ma'am. She'll be out until..." He tripped over his words. "...until tomorrow morning." The lady nodded. "My dear, there is no need to lie to me. I am the police after all. You can tell me anything." Asher swallowed. She didn't look so much like a cop at the moment, with her knee length black skirt and loose red shirt it was enough to confuse anyone to her occupation. The lady laughed and Asher cringed, she sounded like a demon crying.

"If you want to speak to my mom you should come back in the morning. Sorry, but I can't help you," Asher said, going to close the door. He no longer found the lady attractive, now she just scared him. The air around her shimmered with something not unlike a warning sign, telling him to forget his thoughts of beauty to recognise the danger this lady carried like a neon sign. "I actually don't want to speak to your mother," she said, placing a hand on the door. Asher looked up at her. "What do you want then?" he asked.

The lady smiled. "I would like to talk to you."