After 4 plus years of abuse Milo Donman is finally freed with the help of his best friend Jason, and the police of course. But now Milo and Jason have to deal with the Post traumatic stress. But that seems to get in the way of their feelings for eac...
When he collapses into me I could feel his grief and the weight of his sorrow. I was carrying my own demons, they were heavy on me but I'm also determined to carry his too as long as he needs me to. I take him to my room and let him curl into me. I allow myself to be his shelter. I coddle and cuddle him until he settles down.
"Are you gonna tell me what this is about?"
I say in a very calm and nurturing tone.
He sniffles and shakes his head. "J-just the n-normal s-stuff."
Even though his breath was hiccupped I could tell he was lying to me. But it was okay, I wanted to cheer him up anyway. "Hey...I have something that might make you feel a little better… I'll be right back." I get off of my bed and reach over the side of it where my new puppy rested on it's new bed.
"I bought a puppy… Dr Hanzel said it was a good idea to have a support animal."
Milo's eyes get bigger when he sees it. It was a brown puppy with grey eyes.
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"Is it blind…?" He pets him gently.
I chuckle. "No. He was just born like that. His eyes are just pretty…"
"Oh…" he says in awe. "What's his name?"
If Milo was a dog, this is what he'd look like… I'm aware that it's kind of painfully ironic to name my puppy Milo, seeing as Milo's pet name was puppy…
"Mason." It was the only thing I could think of. Our names together.
He blushes a little. "Oh...it's sweet...he's very cute…"
Mason jumps around excitedly on his lap wagging his tail and finding anything close to lick.
Milo giggles and cuddles him. Mason nuzzles his head into him.
Milo
I see what he did there. He put our names together...and he picked out a puppy that looked like me… he was so cute it was hard to look at him sometimes. "Can I stay here tonight?" I asked hesitantly.
"Yeah of course… always.." he scoops me into him and snuggles Mason between us as we sleep. This time it was uninterrupted, no dreams at all. Perfect.
Jason
"Again." A demanding voice growls.
I take in a trembling breath and I click the gun. Nothing happens.
Tied to a chair with only one arm loose, he forces me to play Russian roulette. By myself. The thought that one of those clicks could be a bang kills me as I sweat and tremble.
