I watched the fire erupt inside Eddie's room before stumbling down the stairs. When I looked, Benjamin was at the foot of the steps, sprawled across the floor. Even with my knee screaming into oblivion, I managed to grab him by the scruff and haul him to his feet, before dragging him out the back door. I sprinted across the green yard and in one swift motion, gripped Benjamin's scrawny body in two hands and tossed him over the fence. I clambered up on top of the monkey bars, swung one leg over, and watched the back door burst open. The last thing I saw were four German Shepherds come tearing into the back yard.
Benjamin, kneeling on the alleyway floor, was bleeding from the nose.
"You asshole," he mumbled.
"Shut up and get in the car."
I grabbed the boy by the collar and threw him into the backseat, making sure that he didn't leave any blood in the alleyway for the cops to find, before jumping behind the wheel and pushing the car into full throttle. In a screech of rubber against asphalt and cloud of toxic smoke, we sped out of the alley way and into the dawn.
© A.G. Travers 2015

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Charade
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