Page 95 of Save Me

I freeze. The movement comes again, from a small, shadowy form.

A small animal.

I crouch down and hear a thump-thump, squinting to see it’s a…dog? A puppy, crouched down and avoiding eye contact with me. Its entire body shivers.

“Hey,” I say, raising my voice. “It’s okay.”

The words feel empty, but that’s what you’re supposed to say, right? Even if it’s not okay?

The puppy doesn’t move except for its tail thumping quickly.

“Hey there, pretty…boy? Girl?” I bend over to see more, and the dog licks its lips. I can see now it’s a tiny German shepherd puppy with big black ears. It also has a blue collar on, which looks to be tangled in the bushes. It looks terrified.

Immediately, I feel my chest loosen.

“I’ll help you.”

Slowly, I move my hand toward it, hoping it doesn’t bite me. The dog winces, and its shivering increases. Immediately, I make hushing noises. Noises that I hope translate to "I'll never hurt you."

As soon as I touch the collar, the dog whimpers again, and something churns in my gut. Is it hurt?

“It’ll be okay, baby, I’ll help you.”

It takes me a minute to untangle the dog and pull him out. He grips the dirt to keep from coming with me. I’m afraid he’ll bite me, but instead he just freezes and shakes. Like he doesn’t know what to do. Like he’s completely overwhelmed, which oddly makes tears well in my eyes. I cradle him to my chest. The dog’s body is tiny, and I can feel his ribs. One of his legs is hanging over my hand despite him tucking every other limb into his body.

Fuck. Is he okay?

Gently, I touch the dog’s leg, and he yelps and tries to run. As if I hurt him. As if he’s been hurt before.

It feels like a burning wall of rage and panic washes over me. Who could hurt an animal like this?

I check his collar, but there’s no tag.

Of course not. Cowards. Don’t want to be held accountable for what they did.

The dog whimpers again, and I realize my body has gone tight. I have to relax. Have to help him.

My legs shake, either from the cold or the feelings in my body. Relax? How do I do that?

My brain buffers. I try to manually let go of my muscles, but they keep shaking. And suddenly I’ve never felt so powerless. I can’t even control my own body. What am I supposed to do?

I’m frozen there in the unknown, trying not to shake the dog too much. What do I do? My world is falling apart, and this dog needs help.

A thought fills my mind, unbidden. Micah would know what to do.

My feet are moving before I recognize I’ve made the decision.

Micah would know. And so, despite it all, I head back to the place I just ran from. The dog just sits in my arms, frozen, relying on me. Relying on me to make the right choice.

Walking feels so slow and rough. Too slow. Way too slow. I start to jog back to the house, being as gentle as I can.

Jogging feels better. Feels like I’m doing something.

Vaguely, I notice that I’m going to ask Micah for help, which is against every code I’ve ever made with myself.

And now, suddenly, everything relies on Micah not playing the game I expected him to play.

Everything.