Softly shutting the door, he made his way down the stairs of the trailer before taking in the rising sun over the smaller trailer park his family had set up shop in, trying to focus on the various mobile homes that rested on the outskirts of town just as they did.
Lonely islands that others seemed to forget about.
And then, they forgot about each other, too, over the noise of their own lives, the noise that seemed, thankfully, to be blurring into a mess he couldn't really pull apart, or maybe it was through the wild thrumming of his heart and the rushing of blood in his ears that made it difficult for him to make sense of as he got away from the house, realizing a startled, numb wince that he had run from the door the moment he had a chance to.
Well, saying he ran definitely was generous.
More like, he wobbled quickly from the door, noticing a sharp pain that at along his ankle, mostly a dull ache he was glad wasn't more than that, remembering how difficult it had been to hide his broken wrist a few years before.
It was nearly impossible to get anything then, he could recall, and with a shimmer of morbid wonder, he held up his own arm, his left wrist, up, pulling down his sleeve just enough to view it, though he intentionally avoided the dark red lines that danced along his arm, choosing instead to focus on the odd crookedness of his wrist that, from as far as he could tell, suddenly feeling sicker than he had before, didn't look...right.
Not that he inspected every little injury.
He was man, he could take it, see?
But this, the way it seemed to just a little off, a little...bent, but in the wrong way, made his skin shiver.
'Well, that'll show you not to yell at Dad, won't it?'
'Yeah, you shouldn't have done that, anyway.'
'Yeah, I...I guess so, yeah...' Trailing off, he pulled his sleeve back down.
He didn't want to look at it anymore.
Stepping over the cracks and weeds that lined the worn-down tin houses, making note of the still silence that hung like a thick veil over the area before banking behind them, leading to a short path that picked up into the woods around town. Billows of fir trees, oaks, and pines cast long shadows along the ground as he walked, throwing cools breezes that made the boy shiver, absentmindedly pulling his sparse, thin varsity jacket closer to his chest as he braced the wind; how could he have forgotten the bitter cold that nipped at his exposed ankles, or the biting sensation of frost the licked his cheeks?
Another wonderful addition to his morning.
But it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.
Only a little bitch would get touchy about a little bit of a breeze.
'And I'm not a little bitch!' He'd done this same song and dance, so many times, and so he knew just where to begin walking, ignoring the way he felt his nose cry and his ears sing with pain at the wind that smacked into them.
'Yes you are.'
"Shut-up!" This time, he didn't hold himself back.
It wasn't as if anyone was around, anyway.
So it was probably fine.
Casting his gaze down to the ground at a scratching sound that blew in as the wind did, Amber leaves scuttled like hermit crabs on the breeze about his ankles, and the thought made him laugh, if only a little, parting the path with his hands (not that anyone came this way, anyway) that allowed him to enter deeper into the woods until he lost sight of the main road leading into town as cold hands dipped and weaved between his legs.
In the quiet of the forest, even with the voices that went on and on (though they were, thankfully, chattering amongst themselves; they must have lost interest in him or something), ever-present and unyielding in his head, there was still an air of tranquility and ease that he couldn't really describe. It felt like this morning, a time that, he realized, hadn't been that long ago.
Just him, the television, and the little voices of birds and crickets that rang around him now, singing to each other, greeting each with great eagerness that predated their eventual descent down south.
As if they were bidding each other goodbye, or getting ready with the hustle and bustle of family trips, like the ones that Dale had told him about, the ones that his family took every year to a location of their choosing, something different every time. He could remembering listening with a degree of fascination...and envy.
But he liked feeling fascinated more. He didn't like what the other made him want to...never-mind.
...
...
Wait, why did he feel so...weird?
The voices were speaking amongst each other, but they were...unsettled, like little insects buzzing with apprehension, swaying leaves the brushed within the confines of his mind, and he tried to listen in, to see if he could make sense of what they were on about.
'...followed...'
'...in the woods...'
'...watching you...'
"What? What are you talking about? No one...," Taking a moment to look himself, despite his better judgement, he scanned about the immediate areas, scrutinizing a particularly thick bush before he went to smack his forehead, exclaiming, "...listen, there's no one there. No one is following me. No one, so shut-up about it!" He looked again.
He was sure of it, beginning to feel a light curl of agitation and fear.
God, he hated when they did this.
WHY COULDN'T THEY JUST SHUT UP ALREADY?
'Yes there is...'
'Someone is out there...'
'They're going to kill you...'
The weight of unease that bit at him, urging him to look over his shoulder every few steps, half expecting his someone to be there.
Following him.
Or...even amongst the trees, somewhere around him-
'Ugh. What am I thinking? Dad...Dad is home, and I'm out here by myself. Mom is home, too. I'm being really dumb right now, and so are you! There isn't anyone out here!' Shaking his head, realizing that they weren't listening to him at all, Dash glued his eyes forward, watching the leaves again as he tried to take his mind off of it.
He was fine.
Fine.
Fine.
It was just him and the trees. No one else was around, he went to remind himself, he repeated to himself, as he took a careful step forward.
Just him.
Breathing out a sigh, that should have been the end of it. He could have been on his way, fighting through a few overzealous plants that tried to swipe at him from the sides of the path, enjoying (as best as he could) the joyous chatter of the woods, the wind and rustled red and yellow leaves about the trees.
He could have enjoyed the silence.
That is, if they hadn't chimed in.
'No, you're not alone! Someone is watching you; look out! Look out!'
'They're following you to school.'
'They're looking for you!'
'You've done it now; Mom and Dad and really mad at you.'
Looking over his shoulder again, Dash disregarded the nagging irritation with himself, nervous eyes scanning behind until he froze, blue orbs beaming from one side to another in every direction as he tried to pinpoint the sound.
A rustling somewhere near by, quick, scurrying.
There was someone here.
Someone, no, they were following him.
Were they still mad?
Maybe he should go back?
'But...I don't know what to do! I have to...I have to go to school, but...-" The noise was closer, closer than it had been before, appearing to come from everywhere at once.
Maybe from the left?
No, no, the right-
It was everywhere, sloshing like father's bottle, half expecting his huge body to sprint from the underbrush, cold anger rivaling that of the tiny breeze that seemed to still like his breath.
It was there, no, there!
Everywhere and he couldn't pin it down.
But what he found he could do, twisting and turning as if to try and focus on anything, but his eyes didn't stick anywhere, flickering frantically from one sound to the next, his mouth opening to scream out to the woods.
"I'm sorry if I made you mad! I-I didn't know! P-please, don't-," When the rustling didn't stop its pursuit, the boy collapsed to his knees, head twisting and turning every which way, eyes darting furiously from one sound, to another, to another, and the forest seemed to grow louder, the wind colder. Even the trees seemed to bend down to scoop him up, black shadows playing and dancing in the edges of his vision until he felt his breath hitch, catching in his throat for one beat, then several more until his chest grew tight.
Too tight for him to breath.
Grasping at his hair, he tried desperately to center himself, pulling desperately at the golden locks until he felt his scalp grow warm, and somewhere he heard someone crying, but he couldn't tell over the noise, the voices.
Screaming at him.
Screaming so loud.
He couldn't hear anything.
Nothing.
Nothing as he curled into a ball, bracing for what he was sure would be his father's hand, his mother hands, someone's hands to punish him for what he had done.
...
...
...
Then it stopped.
From the bushes came two squirrels chasing each about the forest floor as one held a seed between its teeth, the second following close behind, appearing to be shouting profanities through their gnarled teeth. Dash's wide, unblinking eyes watched them, each trembling breath hitched and hesitant as if even his lungs wished to silence themselves against the noise, then just like that, they had disappeared into the trees, like tiny ghosts that had never been there at all.
For awhile, the boy didn't move.
He didn't dare to, or more like he couldn't, not trusting himself not to collapse right then and there into a sweaty, gibbering mess, realizing only then that his cheeks were wet, streaked with salty tears that threatened to mess up his makeup, but he couldn't think about that.
As it were, he found his thoughts jumbled, mixed up and twisted as he tried to get his bearings with little success.
'They're still there.'
'Stay here. If you move, they'll get you.'
'Mom and Dad are mad, so mad!'
Blue eyes looked, peering out but seeing nothing. Nothing but the plain, lonely forest that seemed to stretch on forever in each direction. Looking down, Dash would sighed in relief if he could, spotting the path not far off where he was, if a ways to the left as he'd fallen off of it at some point. He didn't have the mind to ask how that had happened, how he had strayed so far, but it was fine, he told himself, hands still firmly set in his hair as the boy stood up on wobbly knees, eyes darting, eyes watching.
He had to watch out.
Anyone could be there.
'I just have to get on the path...then I can see her. Just a bit longer...' Dash wavered onto the beaten foliage, ogling the leaning trees before he pressed on, slowly releasing his hair only to see that his fingernails had been tinged red.
Familiar sick feelings set in at the sight of them, reminding him of something else, so he made a point not to look at them much longer, shoving his hands into his pockets the rest of the way, though the unease, the fear that gripped him tempted them out again, his arms...itching.
Leaving the thought alone, choosing to shove as far down as he could managed, he continued along, occasionally looking behind and around him as dark visages, like little shadows, bid his greetings in the edges of his vision, but just out of reach.
He had to remember that they weren't real.
Right.
He was fine.
Fine.
Fine.
The boy tried to turn his thoughts to other things, remembering, again, where he was.
In the back of his mind, just as before, there was something that he liked about the quiet, lonesome songs playing in the trees aiding him in forgetting that familiar terror that still made his body tremble, despite his best efforts to make it stop.
Something that made him smile as he looked about the ground, tracking the path forward as it stretched an indeterminable distance behind him, like a thin, long finger had drawn a line in the dirt.
From the time that he had this path in his youth (or rather, what would later be this path; then, it was just a slight opening in the loose thicket that he'd pushed aside), it was his sneakers that had begun to guide him along the way, acting, in it of itself, as a landmark for him to find until eventually, they laid flat. Each print left such a profound mark in the dirt that the path itself seemed to have always been there, but the boy knew better. It was from the pounding of the sole of his shoe that he had formed this, something of his own.
A blush of pride welled in his chest at the thought.
'Yeah, like how Daddy always pounds you~'
'Into the dirt where you belong.'
"Ugh, shut-up! Just shut-up, SHUT-UP, SHUT-UP!" Unconsciously, his hand went up to his head, hitting himself hard, over and over, until he stopped mid-swing, shaking his head as if he were trying to get himself together.
What was he doing? Looking at his hand, he noticed it was shaking.
Shaking violently as he forced it back to his side.
He had to keep it together.
Keep it together.
Rounding the odd bend, a seemingly random point on the path, and traversing and descending along the dips and divvies until he'd found it, a small, tattered tent that lied in a small clearing, covered just well-enough by thick foliage and the shade of trees as approached it from afar.
But that wasn't what he'd wanted.
It was a voice that resounded within, a light, melodious sound that he remembered so fondly and filled him with more happiness than he could recall ever feeling (not that he would allow himself to think that any other time; he was happy!), that gave him the energy he needed to rush over, forgetting, if only for a moment or two, the pressing fear and intrusive voices that scraped at his eardrums.
Stepping carefully around the tent, checking for holes or insects, avoiding the many toys scattered around the shelter, Dash knelt down, taking note of the small canopy camouflage (which were really just a few branches, twigs, and leaves he had covered her tent with the best way he could) that had been reduced to just a few sticks here and there, but also, peering into a tiny slip of the zipper that sealed the tent off, at the tiniest ball of fluff, their little body breathing softly as she kicked and yelped in sleep. In as quiet of a voice that he could muster, his hand gentle and light, he carefully nudged the tiny creature's side, rousing the small animal from their rest with a start. The boy couldn't help the doting smile that pulled at his weary features as he watched the pup stretch, bellowing a great yawn (as loud as someone her size could manage) before turning to meet his waiting blue eyes, her own bright, amber ones flickering with recognition and excitement.
"Hey, Roxie.", The teen started in the quietest voice he could manage, stroking her coat gently as she came at attention, motioning to lick his hand as he unzipped the tent the rest of the way, surprising him when she burst from the shelter, slobbering and barking with such tangible excitement that he couldn't suppress the big, goofy smile that broke along his face, a feeling he was unfamiliar with.
Easing down to the ground slowly, criss-crossing his legs as he sat, he resisted the urge to flinch as she scrambled onto his lap, licking him fervently. However, an excited paw pressed right into a new bruise on his chest, causing him to suck a breath inward as he cupped the spot, turning away from her as the throbbing ache grew in intensity.
The pup stopped, whining lowly as she cocked her head from one side to another, beginning to back away until he collected himself, but the boy smiled weakly at her, forcing a laugh through his gritted teeth.
"It's...it's okay, girl! I'm fine, don't worry about it!"
How could he even begin to be mad at her?
How could he honestly do that?
'She did that on purpose, you know.'
'The little fucker meant to do that. She hates you.'
'You should strangle-'
'Shut the fuck up, already!' He shouted in his mind.
He didn't want to spook her.
Petting her, the pup still whimpered, though a bit more lively, licking his palms as he tried to pet her, even stretching up to send sloppy kisses upon his face, the pain dulling, if just for a moment.
"I know, I missed you too. I can't stay, but I promise I'll be back soon, but before I go..." Putting just enough space between himself and Roxie so he could unpack his bag, his hand fished through the contents (not that there was much in there to begin with) until he found it, the scrap of bread that had, unfortunately, been squashed and folded beneath the weight is the belongings and handling it. Opening the baggy and tearing off a small chunk of the bread, he gave it to Roxie who gobbled it up greedily.
He could recall when he found her, not too long ago, alone in this same place.
Maybe she had been someone else's pet, someone's companion, though he couldn't fathom how someone could forget to come back for her.
It was then that he figured, just weeks ago, that someone had abandoned her, for when a week had turned two, and two to three, he realized with a shimmering anger that they had intended to leave her out there, for some reason.
It was only by her frantic yelping, a sorrowful, desperate sound he no intention of remembering, that he found her, soaking wet, tired, and hungry.
And it was then, in the light of the evening sun, that he promised he would take care of her.
It had been a month now, and he was still coming, though he could offer little to her, for what she needed.
She needed more than this, these tiny morsels that wouldn't feed someone half her size.
"I...I know it isn't much but this was all could get you for now. Sorry if it isn't enough...", Not a second passed before she went to take it, but she paused, eying him softly before continuing to eat.
He knew that she would still be hungry, silently berating himself as he listened to her tiny stomach rumble with dissatisfaction. With the times that he'd managed to visit, there wasn't much that he could give, though this didn't stop him from grinding his teeth in irritation at himself.
'Always coming up short.'
However, the pup stopped, almost appearing to wait for him to eat as well, soft, amber eyes watching him somberly. Smiling softly, he waved the last few morsels of bread in front of her, encouraging her to eat as he watched her, again, cock her head to the left, then to the right, still looking at him.
As if considering him as she had done for her.
Using his free hand, the boy rubbed her head gently, so gently, chuckling when she followed through by nipping at his calloused palm, though not roughly.
"It'll be fine, I promise. Maybe I could, uh...fish some loose change from beneath the vending machines or something. I can figure it out, but you have eat, girl. You need it way more than I do, and besides...", Sighing, he stopped petting her to look out into the woods, avoiding the nagging feeling that still nipped at the edges of his mind, urging him to look around him again, "...I have to get school anyway." Giving a nod to his companion, she relented, scooping up the last, stale morsel before climbing back into his lap as excitedly as before.
Something in him begged to stay, begged him to stay in what felt like paradise with her, but something stronger pulled him to his feet, cradling the puppy in his arms as he carried her back into the tent. He could tell she was displeased, yapping and yelping indignantly at his feet as she playfully nipped at his ankles once he had set her down again. Tempted as he was, Dash could practically smell the detention that he would surely get upon his arrival at the school if he didn't get a move on, sighing at the thought of it.
"I know, Rox, but I really have to go. Maybe another time we could play; you like that? You like that, girl?" The boy knelt down one last time, petting her before taking the toy at his feet and throwing it into the back corner of the tent, hurrying to seal it back as she went after it. Grabbing his bag and traversing down the path, feeling a sudden ache in his gut as he listened to her departing barks.
He would be back, he would, he promised to her from his thoughts.
Doubling back, something in him went to back to the tent, taking a few twigs, branches, and leaves to conceal the shelter as best as he could, scoffing at how stupid it looked, but he felt no compulsion to change it.
He couldn't do much more than that, and he couldn't stand to imagine what his father would do if he brought home a puppy, much less if he asked to keep her.
'That should be fine, right? That should cover her for a bit.' Somehow, he couldn't really convince himself of that, and the voices chimed in, like always.
'Shouldn't you cover it up more?'
'You should leave her outside.'
'If someone finds her, they'll kill her, you know.'
"I know. I-I know. I have to make sure she's fine, so this should be enough. I hope so...," Casting a cautious look around the tent, the boy sighed and left its side, glancing back just one last time before traveling further down the path, the tent eventually fading out of sight behind him.
"...I don't know what I would do if someone found her, or hurt...-," Quickly, he ejected the thought from his mind, refusing to even consider something like that, considering something so horrid, so unimaginable, that his body visibly shuddered,
That wouldn't happen, it couldn't happen; it didn't help to think like that, Dash berated himself mentally. She would be fine; she had toys, blankets, water.
He would just have to train her not to poop in the tent, he thought with a chuckle that worked to dissolve the tangle of anxiety that had nestled its way into his chest.
'She'll die...'
"Ugh, please, just...could you stop? She'll be fine, she'll be fine!" He shouted to the open air, jumping back at the sound of his own voice.
Why couldn't they just be quiet?
She would be fine; Rox would be there when he got back.
She had to be.
With a hoist of his backpack, Dash picked up the pace towards the school, only feeling relief when the sign of Casper High appeared over the hill on the sidewalk, making the final push before he entered into the front doors, entering the main lobby.
He'd made it in one piece.
Now all that was left was to make it through the day.
