Steven

8. Puppy

I never thought I could be so happy living like this. Cold, alone, scared. That's what I thought I be. But this older dog—the friendly man who gives me treats calls him Stevie—is the most amazing dog ever. I don't know why, but I can tell he wants to care for me, and protect me. He has a sense of purpose I couldn't find in any of the humans I've ever encountered. They were there for fun, it seemed, or to try to have fun. Most of those humans smelt sad though. I was the same. Purposeless and depressed. But Stevie is different, he has purpose. I think it's to protect me.

He's been on edge a lot recently. It could be that it's been getting colder recently. But he's on the look for danger. I wish he wasn't upset so much. Everything seems safe, nobody complains when we go through bins, some even chuck out their old toys especially for me. But I can't work out what's in his mind.

One night, we went out walking. The day was cold, yet somehow, the night seemed warmer. But as soon as we left the safety of the back alley, a terrifying, familiar scent overcame me—and Stevie recognised it too. It was from the woman's house, who I recently worked out had sex a lot. Often, the smell wasn't so threatening. But the smell of gross oil, sweat and power radiating from this house could only belong to one person. Tom Buchanan.

He was leaving right as we came in to view. Stevie cane right to my side. So he knew Tom too. But he didn't really seem scared...maybe he never knew real Tom. No, Stevie didn't. He smiled. Oh no no no. Stevie, No—

Tom approached. I started to back away. I couldn't fight, I would have to run. But Stevie welcomed Tom, and Tom...Tom stroked him. Pet his head. Clearly liked him. What?! Had he changed? That struck me for a second, before the actual answer struck me. No, he hadn't. And I knew because, he saw me, and roared. It was a broken roar, but terrifying. I could feel his hate for me. He said something about 'Myrtle dying,' as he pounded up to me ready to attack.