2: 2

2

When I woke the next morning, my hand went out of habit to find Buddy's harness, and closed on nothing.

Donald's words from the day before came back to me, and I hurried out without even putting on my shoes.

"Buddy. Buddy…"

Sometime overnight, boxes had appeared in the living room. I tripped over one and cracked my forehead hard against the corner of the table.

There was movement at the door.

"First thing in the morning, and here you are putting on some tragic little show on the floor?"

"To bring us sisters closer, I went out and bought Buddy some premium dog food."

Every nerve in me went tight.

Sharon was a devil. In front of others she was a sweet, harmless little flower who wouldn't hurt a soul.

Behind closed doors she turned vicious and cruel. Back then I'd suffered plenty at her hands.

"No need for that."

"Don, look at her. She's got such a grudge against me. I really don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Donald's cold voice came at me.

"Freya, Sharon is your sister. Can't you act a little like the older one?"

He'd seen with his own eyes how Sharon and her mother treated me, and now he stood on their side.

"Sharon was young and thoughtless back then. Now she wants to mend things with you, and you're being ungrateful."

I clamped my hands over my ears, my chest aching from holding it all in.

Buddy seemed to sense how close I was to breaking, and nudged my palm with his nose.

The next moment, Buddy let out a whimper and dropped to the floor, in pain.

"Buddy, what's wrong?"

I couldn't see. All I could feel was the wetness around his mouth.

"What now? Is this ever going to end this early in the—"

Donald didn't finish. He'd seen the state Buddy was in.

"What did you do to Buddy? Why is he throwing up this much?"

The one he turned on by reflex was always me.

Buddy was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with food poisoning.

The vet detected a large amount of xylitol in his stomach.

"Xylitol is a lethal toxin for dogs. The dose is way over the limit, his organs are already damaged, we have to pump his stomach and treat him right now."

"What exactly did you feed Buddy?"

Sharon's eyes went red with hurt, her voice breaking.

"I don't know. I only wanted to do something nice for him."

Donald shoved me back hard.

"Sharon didn't do it on purpose. She already feels terrible about it."

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

When Buddy first came home, he'd once gotten an upset stomach from eating something he shouldn't have.

Donald had stayed with me and watched over Buddy without leaving his side, and he'd said,

"Buddy is family. We have to protect him together."

The stomach pumping was agonizing. Buddy's small body kept convulsing, yet he was so good about it, not a single cry of pain.

I held Buddy through a whole day of IV drips.

When I came back from dinner in the evening, the hospital bed was empty. No sign of Buddy.

The vet said Donald had taken him.

A bad feeling flickered through me, and I quickly called Donald.

No one answered.

I could only feel my way home alone.

Without Buddy's help, I nearly got hit by a car several times.

Bowing again and again to apologize.

"Where's Buddy?"

He looked at the sorry state of me without a trace of guilt.

"Sharon was afraid you'd blame her, so she moved back to the old estate tonight."

"She's scared to be alone, so she borrowed Buddy to watch the place for her."

Sharon was a devil. How could I leave Buddy in her hands?

My voice shook with panic as I begged, low and pleading.

"Have her bring Buddy back, and I'll take him and go, all right?"

But Donald only sounded irritated.

"Freya, being blind doesn't make you right. We've been bending over backwards to accommodate you at every turn."

"Can't you show a little sense?"

I shook my head desperately, tears spilling down.

"Don, Buddy's still sick. I'm begging you, get him back."

Donald pried my fingers loose one by one, his voice tired.

"Sharon's probably asleep by now. If I go bother her, she won't get any sleep tonight."

"Tomorrow. I'll bring Buddy back tomorrow, okay?"

3: 3

3

I sat there dazed the whole night, and every second dragged.

The moment the alarm went off, I couldn't wait. I knocked on Donald's door.

"It's morning. Let's go get Buddy back, okay?"

The room was silent. No one answered.

My heart dropped. I felt my way to the bed. The sheets were faintly cold.

He'd left long ago.

I couldn't wait another minute.

I'd already lost my mother, and Donald was gone too.

Buddy was all I had left.

Five years later, I set foot in that painful place again.

A party was going on inside the old estate, a whole crowd of them making noise.

I had barely stepped in when a clammy hand landed on my shoulder.

"Who ordered this girl? Kinky taste, ordering a blind one."

"Shh, you want to die? That's the one Don keeps on the side—"

Their voices dropped low. The man who'd spoken first started bowing and scraping toward the front.

"Don, I'm sorry, my mouth runs off, I deserve it."

Donald's lazy voice drifted over.

"Yours, mine, what's the difference. We're all brothers here."

I stood frozen where I was.

There was a time when a stranger on the street muttering "blind girl" in passing was enough to break something in Donald, to make him furious.

Even beaten bloody, he'd shield me with his whole body, his eyes burning and solemn.

"Remember, in my heart, Freya is the best girl in the world."

"No one has the right to put you down. No one."

And now he was putting me down right along with them.

The pain spread through my chest in tiny needling points.

I turned toward where Donald was and fought back the tears with everything I had.

"Where's Buddy? You promised you'd give Buddy back to me today."

Sharon walked up to me carrying a bottle of liquor.

"Sis drinks this glass, and I'll tell you. How about that?"

I'm allergic to alcohol. As a child, not knowing better, I once sneaked a liqueur-filled chocolate and broke out in a rash all over.

Donald had gone white with fright. He'd held me and said he would never let me touch a drop of alcohol again.

"Tell me, where exactly is Buddy?"

Donald's cold, clear voice came in.

"Freya, Sharon's talking to you."

Sharon shoved the heavy bottle into my hands.

My unfocused eyes turned toward where Donald stood.

"Is this what you want too?"

"Mm. What Sharon wants is what I want."

Terrified something would happen to Buddy, I clutched the bottle and gulped it down, mouthful after mouthful.

The burning liquid poured down my throat and set me coughing.

My mind was going hazy, but I forced myself through to the last swallow.

"Can you tell me now?"

Sharon gave a cold little snort.

"No fun at all. The old dog's out back of the house."

At some point it had started pouring outside.

I didn't know the ground, and my steps came uneven, too high then too low.

I tripped again and again, falling hard into the mud.

Skinned knees, scraped palms, my forearms lined with cuts.

Mud and blood mixed together and dripped off my limbs without stopping.

But I didn't dare stop. I pushed myself up and kept feeling my way forward.

My Buddy was still waiting for me.

Finally, through the wind and rain, I heard Buddy's low whimper.

I followed the sound and found him tied to a wire fence post.

The rope was only half a meter long. Buddy couldn't crouch and couldn't stand straight, only hunch there, and there was no telling how long he'd been like that.

He was trembling in the rain, and the smell of his own vomit hung in the air.

I couldn't work the dead knot in the wire loose.

I tore at it with bare hands, the wire cutting into my palms, blood mixing with rain.

Buddy was very weak, barely able to stand, yet he still remembered his job.

He lowered his head and nudged my palm gently, then set off with unsteady steps, still doing his duty, still leading the way for me.

Just as we were about to reach the doorway, Sharon blocked our path.

Buddy shook and pressed himself against my leg.

"Freya, you lost again."

Against her, it seemed I had never once won.

She could always take what was mine so easily.

Before it was Dad's love, and now it was Donald's affection.

I tightened my grip on the harness lead.

Staring into the empty dark, I felt everything inside me go barren.

There was no one here worth holding on to anymore.

Once Buddy recovered, I would take him and leave this place.

4: 4

4

The vet said Buddy's body was covered in bruises, like someone had beaten him.

I held Buddy close, crying so hard it hurt.

He curled into my arms, so good about it, nudging the tears off my cheek.

He was always like this—taking every cruelty and still trying to comfort me.

By the next day, Buddy had finally recovered a little of his spirit.

Tail wagging, he led me home, happy the whole way.

I pressed my finger to the scanner and found my print had been deleted.

Donald was done with me. Completely.

I stood there holding Buddy's harness, lost.

The door swung open, and Sharon's voice cut out, sharp and mean.

"Freya, you blind little wretch, how are you this shameless?"

"If you weren't holding that whole saving-his-life debt over him, Donald wouldn't want to look at you for even a second."

She didn't have to say it. I already knew I was a burden.

Even though I'd tried so hard to live in the dark, to trouble no one.

Sharon reached out and stroked Buddy's head, light as anything.

"You know, I really didn't want to take it out on a dog."

Something in me went on alert, and I locked my arms around Buddy.

"Don't touch him!"

Her voice stayed flat, but the smile in it turned vicious.

"I won't touch him."

"I'm just helping Donald cut loose the burden. That's all."

The next second she screamed, and then came the sound of something heavy tumbling down the steps.

My mind went blank.

Someone rushed past me.

"Sharon, what happened?"

"It hurts, my leg hurts so much. Will I ever be able to dance ballet again?"

Sharon's voice was thick with tears.

"I opened the door for them out of kindness, and the dog held a grudge against me. He just lunged and bit me."

"I was so scared……"

I shook my head, frantic, the words spilling out.

"No. Buddy stayed right beside me the whole time. He didn't move."

Donald's voice came full of fury.

"And now you're lying?"

"Why would Sharon throw away her dancing career just to frame a dog?"

I groped helplessly at the empty air, my hollow eyes stinging and going red.

"I'm not lying. You have to believe me."

"Check the security camera. The camera will prove Buddy did nothing."

Sharon's sobbing drifted over in broken little pieces.

"Donald, don't be angry. She's just afraid I'll take you from her, so she set her dog on me."

"I'm fine. If it comes to it, I just won't dance anymore."

That only fed Donald's rage.

"Freya, the camera's broken, isn't it? That's why you think you can get away with anything."

I went cold all over, like I'd been dropped into a pit of ice.

So heaven had never once been willing to be kind to me.

I held Buddy tight against me.

"Buddy is a guide dog. He's professionally trained. He would never bite anyone, not in his whole life!"

Donald flung me off hard, and I slammed into the door.

"That was before!"

"You've raised him into something vicious. He dared to bite Sharon, so he can't be kept!"

He bent down and grabbed the weak, limp Buddy in one motion.

Buddy gave a faint whimper of pain, his legs hanging useless.

He didn't struggle. He only turned his head, with effort, toward where I was.

I threw out my hands, clawing wildly, and caught nothing.

I heard my own crying, broken past recognition.

"Donald, I was wrong, I was wrong……"

"I'll send him away right now. Please, don't hurt him."

"I'm begging you. He's been with me five years. He did nothing wrong."

"I'm the one who's wrong. I'm sorry. I'm apologizing to you both."

I knelt on the floor, banging my head against it, begging like nothing.

But there wasn't a trace of softening in Donald.

"Too late."

"The moment he scared Sharon, this was how it was going to end."

He dragged me back into the room and locked the door from the outside.

I pounded on it with everything I had.

"Donald, please, let Buddy go. I'll die in his place. I'll die……"

The only answer was footsteps growing farther away.

I slid to the floor and stayed there, not eating, not drinking, until my tears ran dry and my throat went raw from screaming.

I don't know how long it was before they came back—and there was no trace of Buddy with them.

Donald tossed a white cane at me.

"Use this from now on."

Sharon leaned close to my ear, her voice poisonous.

"Petting a dog you'd touched was kind of disgusting, but Donald says dog meat is the most nourishing thing there is."

A wave of nausea rose up through my chest, endless.

"Get out!"

"Freya, stop making a scene. It was only a dog. This is what it deserved for biting Sharon."

How could he say that?

That was Buddy.

Buddy, who'd been at my side day and night for five years, who'd pulled me back from danger more times than I could count.

The last family I had left in this world.

Donald leaned in, a rare thing, and touched my head.

"Frey, be good."

"Buddy's gone. I'll make it up to you better from now on."

From now on?

Donald, I don't have a "from now on" anymore.

That night I gripped Buddy's leash tight and slipped out the door.

Step by step, slow and certain, I walked toward the deep water.

Buddy, walk slower.

Wait for me.