Alison Storm

Chapter 20

Alison

"What exactly am I looking for?" Rhys asks as he walks into the house, one hand holding mine.

"Taco," I say, "You're looking for Taco."

I'm not quite sure how I'm supposed to explain this, but I have this feeling. It's a strange one. It's like my heart is hurting from a potential loss, but I can't even be sure yet.

I grew up with this dog. He has been protecting me all my life. God, I'm nineteen years old. Taco must be what? Twenty. Of course he would die very soon, I knew that. But it still doesn't change the way my heart is searching for a connection that I know was there before. A connection that I can no longer feel.

It's kind of like my heart is already saying goodbye whereas my brain is waiting for a confirmation. Proof of my loss.

Rhys turns around, his eyebrows drawn together with sympathy. He sighs softly, saying my name under his breath. "Allie..."

I shake my head at him. If there is one thing I do not need at the moment, it's someone telling me I am being paranoid.

I know what my heart felt like with Taco in my life. It was lighter. It was filled with love and joy. There wasn't this kind of heaviness present as it is right now.

Or maybe I am being paranoid.

"Allie," Rhys says again, "I think you should call your parents."

I lean forward, my face pressing into Rhys's back. With every bit of strength in me, I keep myself from looking around the house. "He's dead, isn't he?"

Rhys keeps quiet. The only sound leaving him is a sighed hum. Not a confirmation, not a no either.

"Rhys, I need you to say it. I won't believe it until you confirmed it." Let's be honest here; if Taco was still alive, he would have run up to me already. It's what he does every time I get home. He never missed a single day greeting me. "Is he dead?"

I'm not exactly sure where Rhys and I are right now. I've kept my eyes close the entire way inside, but if I had to guess, we're currently standing in the middle of the living room.

A tear rolls down my cheek, and in one of very rare times, I allow myself to feel the tear. Feel the pain connected to said tear.

"I believe so, yes."

—

"Cheeseball..." My father sits down on my bed beside me, holding yet another pack of tissues ready for me. I didn't even see him enter my room, which is quite surprising as my room door is right across from my bed.

"You have to eat something, Allie," he says, laying a four-piece package of donuts right on my legs. "It's been two days. You haven't left your room once. You didn't touch any of the food anyone brought you."

"I don't feel like eating."

Rhys has tried getting me to eat all day yesterday, but I simply couldn't. I barely even closed an eye. Who would have thought that if you spent all of your life having the same dog in your bed at night, the second he's no longer there, you can't sleep anymore?

He sighs, lying down beside me. I scoot a bit closer to my father, waiting for him to wrap his arms around me. And when he does, I'm disappointed to find out it does not heal me anymore.

Whenever I was sad and my dad hugged me, it was like all of my pain just vanished. It doesn't happen now.

For the very first time in my life, I think he might be devastated to know he can't take my pain away.