August, in one of the rare moments when he wasn't pissed at me, had asked me why really had I left Mom and Dad.

"Because they didn't want me there," I'd told him, surprised at the fact that we were talking civilly in the first place.

It had been an odd day, in retrospect. We'd baked cookies together. I don't know how that had happened, but I'd placed one of the cheap cake mix boxes on the kitchen counter (maybe as a peace offering) that I'd bought the same day from the grocery store, raised an eyebrow at Augy as he'd sulked at the couch, and then eventually he'd padded over in sock-clad feet to help me out.

We hadn't much conversed until that moment.

"But they did," he'd said, all confused and stubborn. "Mom told me you left because you wanted to. She said you wanted to run away with one of the servants."

"I didn't. She lied to you."

He'd stopped, seemed perturbed, then recited the line I knew was ingrained within him like it'd been dug deep inside me since childhood. "We don't lie to our own."

I'd scoffed. "That's the biggest lie on its own, Augy."

He'd not said anything after that. There had only been silence. And burnt cookies--but that's not what would've mattered anyway. Even if the cookies hadn't turned out awful, August still wouldn't have eaten them.

"Who's that for?" Kleo's voice snapped me out of my thoughts, making me look up from the dark apron in my hands, and close the locker shut once I'd placed my clothes inside.

I looked over at her, the unburnt cigarette dangling from her fingertips, as she eyed the gift bag I'd placed near the corner of the back room.

"August."

She let out a laugh. "Finally got him that telescope he's been wanting for ages?"

I gave a half shrug. "Either that or let him steal the neighbor's."

It hadn't worried me for more than a few seconds though when I'd realized why August had been sneaking into the neighbor's shed so very often now. He wouldn't steal. He'd just go there, sneak past the unlocked doors, look through their expensive (and ancient) collection of telescopes, and then he'd always come back.

I didn't even think he was aware that I knew. Maybe he'd be surprised when he sees the gift bag. But his birthday was coming up anyway, and I think--I knew--that this was the least I could do for him after being absent from his life for years.

"He's too sweet of a boy to steal." Kleo shook her head, then sighed. "Your uncle show his face yet?"

"He's not coming back."

"Did he tell you that himself?"

I gave her a look.

"Because he was here," she continued, "for a lot longer than you were, Alexis. Everyone in this wretched town owes Mikhail one way or another. He'd do odd errands for everyone, he was always there for everyone. You think he'd just up like that and leave?"

I pulled the apron over my head and tied the worn strings around my waist. "He wouldn't. That's how I know he's gone for good. And I can't blame him either. The least I can repay him with is letting him go."

Kleo sighed but didn't say anything more. She may know Uncle Misha, but she didn't know him like I did. She didn't know how much he'd done for me, despite his branded aloofness. He'd been there. He'd provided a safe space for me when I'd left Mom and Dad.

He'd looked after Augy just as much as he'd looked after me.

But now he wasn't here. I didn't know where he was--he hadn't so much as given me a word of explanation--and maybe he wasn't even alive anymore. Maybe he was dead. I didn't know because I hadn't seen his face in years.

All I knew was August. All I had was him. And if all he thought of our parents was reserved and strict, then that too was for the better. I didn't want him to open his eyes to the cruel, much darker sides of our parents.

The world was cruel. Augy deserved better.

Like the telescope I'd bought for him with almost half of the money Uncle Misha had left us. I could've stolen it instead. I could've convinced one of the employees, I knew plenty of ways, to slip me one of the boxes without the storeowner knowing. I hadn't though. In a stupid sense, I'd wanted this to be something pure. I hadn't wanted to taint it--the one good thing August had right now. His love for the stars.

The rest of my day-shift went on like usual. I tuned out most of the noise and clutter around me, served the customers, and passed the slow ticking minutes wondering how Augy would react when I showed him his present.

I'd been a little harsh with him last night, I supposed. He had barely uttered a word other than a soft morning when he'd been getting ready for school this morning. I'd tried to say something, break the silence like I always did whenever we argued these days, but I couldn't stop my brain from repeating his very words in my head--you're trying to control me--controlcontrolcontrol--and it was exhausting.

I didn't want to control his life.

"Fuck off, Ashton!" Kleo hissed from the backroom. "Do your job or get lost."

I glanced at them and noticed Ashton and his unruly mop of hair plastered to the backroom window, his gaze fixated on something outside as he snickered.

I would've ignored him like I usually did, but I thought I heard a small bark from outside, and then I was moving toward Ashton before I could've thought twice.

"What's wrong with you two!" Kleo raised her hands in the air. "Who's manning the counter? If Phil sees this, he'll blow off!"

"What's going on?" I directed my words at Ashton.

"What's it to you, snitch." He sneered at me. One would think getting yelled at by the boss would make him not smoke in the backroom anymore. But this was Ashton, and he made my skin itch with aggravation most of the time. At least Kleo had the decency to never light her cigarettes in here.

Losing patience with him, I shoved him aside and threw open the back door, stepping out. "Hey!" I yelled at the huddle of two--no, three boys crowding around one of the dumpsters where I could hear the familiar, whimpering mess of barks from. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

They were barely teenagers--pasty faces and an air of blatant confidence that would only get them involved in all the wrong places, I knew--and they must've seen the anger on my face. Wasn't enough for them to back off though.

"What's it to you?" One of them snarled at me.

Another small bark and I looked down at the dirty face of the dog, his familiar dark beady eyes staring up at me, and I think there was blood on his fur.

There was a slamming of the door behind me, followed by rushed footsteps, and I think it was Kleo who stepped out. "What the fuck? Alexis, you're needed inside. What are you even--"

"I will kill you." I gritted out, glaring at the boy in front of me. "You fucking--"

"Oh, no, no, no." Kleo grabbed my arm in a surprisingly strong grip, pulled me behind her, and then looked over at the boys. "You lot, get off the property! Don't make me call the cops on you."

They scurried off. I yanked my arm away from Kleo's grasp and went towards the dog, kneeled down, and held out my hands.

"What the hell, Alexis, just take him home with you next time. I don't get you!" Kleo huffed, shook her head, then glared at me. I glared back. "Five minutes, I'm telling you, only five! If you don't come back inside in five, I'm telling Phil. I don't get paid enough for this shit."

I ignored her as she stormed off, gathered the dog carefully in my arms, and tried to level my breathing as I inspected his fur. There was blood trickling down. He wasn't whimpering anymore, only trying to burrow his whole self against me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to him, then stood up, holding him close, and swore under my breath.

Here goes nothing, I thought glumly and went inside the restaurant.

•••

"Are you sure you can't keep him?" The lady at the reception desk asked me as I finished filling the lone form with plenty of pointless blanks that were making my head spin. "Pup seems attached to you already. He might need you, someone familiar, right now of all times."

I didn't bother meeting her gaze, rubbed my hands over the workplace apron I hadn't had a chance to take off when I'd left the restaurant, and shook my head.

"I can't," I stated. "Not right now especially. I've got to collect my things from..." the restaurant "...and go home because..." I'd been meaning to be there when Augy returned from school. Because he'd said I was never there when he got back from school and I was trying to be better for him.

Trying. It wasn't going well so far.

"We'll try our best to take care of him and provide him a home." She smiled at me sympathetically.

I nodded and slipped the form towards her.

"You can visit him anytime." She added cheerfully. "What did you used to call him?"

I glanced down at the form pointedly--at the name I'd filled in for him at the very top of the page. Dog, it read in my handwriting.

The lady laughed goodnaturedly. "Very well. We hope to see you soon!"

I left the shelter, untying the strings of my apron, and pulled it over my head. There was dog fur all over me. And a bit of blood too.

I went up to my car, a beat-up old Rover that too was left behind by Uncle Misha, and tossed the apron in my hand on the passenger seat. Once settled, I grabbed the steering wheel with both of my hands, closed my eyes, and rested my forehead against the leather.

"Get home," I whispered to myself. "For Augy."

I glanced over my shoulder at the huge gift bag sitting on the backseat and exhaled slowly. Augy would be home by now. I'd be a few hours late. That's fine, I told myself. Better a few hours-late than midnight-late.

I pulled out from the shelter's parking lot and headed for the busy, more crowded parts of the town.

Cool air wafted from the AC vents and breezed against my bare neck. I shuddered, pulled off the hair tie, and let my hair cascade over my shoulders. I looked a little deranged, I noticed as I glanced in the rearview mirror, and I was glad Phil hadn't been present when I'd brought the injured dog with me inside the restaurant. I'd only stayed for a mere few minutes, enough to grab my few things--my wallet, my keys, and the gift bag--while Kleo had lost her shit with me.

She'd yelled obscenely. At least I'd apologized to her.

By the time I drove into the ratty old area of the town, nearing the familiar line of apartments, it was nearly evening by then. I had to stay inside the car for a moment even when I was done parking it, mentally readying myself for either a silent treatment from August or an argument, and I told myself, he'll be happy when you give him the gift bag.

I grabbed the gift bag and got out, locking the car and walking up the apartment stairs. The usual rackety noises were coming from the apartment above. I didn't give it much thought when I had more important things in my mind.

It was only when I started taking out my keys to unlock the front door, hand grabbing the door handle and twisting it out of stupid habit, that things started going wrong.

I stiffened, keys almost falling from my hand when the door handle twisted all the way around and the door opened. I hadn't had to use the keys. The door wasn't locked.

Straightening, I cleared my throat quietly and pushed open the door. The first thing that greeted me was the utter and immense silence. Not a single scuffle from the living room. No noise from the television.

It was all deadly silent.

I placed the gift bag just past the door and walked inside, shoulders stiffening in alarm when I didn't see August, not the usual sight of him sulking on the couch. Or, I noticed as I pushed past his room and noticed it all empty and untouched and dark, in his room.

August wasn't here.

August wasn't here. It was that realization, those words like loud bells in my head, that stunned me, left me alarmed and reeling, and entirely unsure of what to do.

My phone, I looked around. Fuck, I didn't have a phone and I didn't carry one around with me, but I'd always said--always told August to leave a message on the house phone if he ever needed to reach out to me--but God, how could I have been so stupid to ask him to leave a message on the house phone when I wasn't even here most of the time?

I grabbed the phone from its receiver and stared at the multiple voicemails and missed calls showing on the screen.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I whispered, pressed on it and listened.

"Alexis," August seemed to be whispering, "I'm at school. You know that. I'm...Can you come and pick me up? I don't feel so good. I think I've caught a stomach bug. I don't even know if you'd listen to this when you won't even be home."

I squeezed the phone and forwarded the voicemails hurriedly to the most recent one.

"There's a...someone watching me. I don't know. Alexis, please please please answer the phone." August sounded anxious in this one--scared--terrified. "I don't want to walk home alone today. Please."

I didn't listen to the rest, gripping the receiver tightly and raking a trembling hand up my face and my hair. How could I have let this happen? I'd always been so careful--so sure--so alert, and yet I had no clue now where August was, where he could be when he wasn't here, when he'd needed me, and--

"Shitshitshit," I whispered. The last voicemail was received two hours ago. Had it been from August's phone? The burner phone I'd given him? But he hadn't taken it--no, he'd thrown it against his bedroom wall in childish anger, and he'd yelled at me that he would never use it. Fuck, why didn't I know? He hadn't made his way here yet.

But, I stilled, the front door was open.

Almost as if on cue, there was a creak, a footstep, and a feel of a presence somewhere behind me. I turned, placed down the receiver slowly, and looked around. There wasn't anyone there, but I knew--just like I knew August wasn't here, hadn't been here since early morning when he'd been leaving for school--that someone else was here. 

I wasn't alone.

I slowly, carefully, cautiously stepped towards the kitchen, the fridge, away from the lights, and felt around for something, anything, a knife--a metal fork--a plate.

I grabbed it--a glass plate, and the moment I saw a figure of movement from August's opened bedroom, a small shift of a shadow, I threw it.

There was a thud, a crash and shattering of glass, and a muffled, "fucking hell", and I knew my aim had been good but not good enough. Not good enough. Fuck, I swallowed, the beat of my heart a steady, threatening thrum in my chest.

I sent a quick look over my shoulder, slid open the drawer behind me, and grabbed the hilt of one of the steak knives.

Another footstep, a crunch of glass so loud in the dead silence, and then that voice--that unmistakable voice--that voice of the one person I hated the most in the world.

"Would you look at that." That unmistakable drawl--I froze. "Such a warm fucking welcome."

I felt my insides stiffening, felt all the strings of my stupid fucking heart pulling tight, and a soft fuck fell from my lips, a whisper under my breath.

The figure--he--stepped out of the shadows, tall and muscled and blond and that godforsaken grin--

"It's been a long--"

Red, I saw red. Alarms blaring in my head like deafening sirens, I had to force myself to loosen my fingers around the knife in my hand, twist it around, slowly--slowly--and I didn't--couldn't--think twice before I hurled it at him.

It was only a second, a flash of blue eyes widening, a swift dodge that shouldn't have been possible but it was--it fucking was because he'd always been so fucking brilliant when it came to knives of all kinds, and I was seeing so much red--red, fiery anger--

"--while." Blake continued, then looked away from the discarded knife and at me. My eyes widened, my breath stuck in my throat, and the smile on his lips slowly took on a manic edge. "Lexi." 

Then he was crossing the living room towards me.