Erik

In my dream, I heard a knock at the door. As I stirred awake, I realized the sound wasn’t coming from the door at all, but from my bedroom window—on the second floor. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I got out of bed and shuffled over. Pebbles were bouncing against the glass.

Opening the window, a blast of arctic air cut through me, making me shiver severely. You would think I would be surprised that someone was throwing rocks at my window at this hour, on such a chilly night. But I was not. I already knew who it was.

“Erik, do you have any idea what time it is?” I quipped, teeth chattering as the cold air poured in.

“Actually, I don’t. I don’t wear a watch,” came the lyrical reply from a shadowy figure perched on a branch just beyond the window.

“Maybe you should,” I muttered under my breath, thinking he would not hear. Of course, he did.

“Maybe I should,” he echoed.

“It’s…” I paused, looking over at my clock. The glowing numbers read 12:06 a.m. “It’s after midnight.”

A faint whining rose from the ground. Ignoring the biting cold, I leaned out and peered down. In the gloom, I made out the outline of an animal whimpering at the base of the tree.

“What is that?” I asked.

“A puppy.”

My eyes snapped back to Erik.

“You got a dog?!” Excitement flickered in my voice.

I looked back down. The dog looked up at me. As my eyes adjusted, I saw it clearly—a German Shepherd pup.

“Not exactly,” Erik said.

“What do you mean, not exactly?”

“I’m leaving, T. I’m going away.”

“What? Why? Is it because of your dad?”

“No. I haven’t been home for a while now.”

That shocked me. So much so, I forgot the cold biting at my skin. He had never told me he had run away. I could not blame him. His father is a cruel drunk—violent whether the bottle was in his hand or not—and Erik bore the brunt of it. He could easily overpower the man, but he never did. I suspect it was out of respect for his mother and sister.

There is something I have neglected to mention about Erik. It explains why he can scale a full-grown oak without aid, why he shrugs off a blistering December night in nothing more than a hoodie and denim jacket, why he can catch a whisper carried on a frozen wind. You have heard the phrase “ninety-eight-pound weakling”? Erik fits the frame—six foot one, lean as a reed—but he is anything but weak. In fact, he may be the strongest person I know. Erik is not like ordinary people. From what I have gathered, he is half-Elf—or perhaps half-Vulcan. I have not determined which. All I know is that both have pointed ears.

“Erik, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” I asked.

“As I said, I haven’t lived at home for some time. I couldn’t take my father’s abuse anymore, so I left. Mom and Rosie tried to stop me, but nothing they said could make me stay.”

“Where have you been living?”

“Alley Pond Park.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. But not anymore.” He paused. “I can’t stay there any more, not after what happened.”

The tone of his voice chilled me more than the night air.

“What happened?” My voice carried real concern now.

He shifted on the branch. As he did, his face and torso slipped into the moonlight. His hood shadowed his face slightly, but I could still see the sharp lines of his features—the aquiline nose, the mouth pressed into a thin line. His face was a mask of determination, streaked with sadness.

There was something on Erik’s jacket, at his left shoulder, that caught my eye. At first it looked torn, but the fabric was soaked with a brownish stain spreading outward like a spill. Then the truth struck me. My eyes widened.

“Jesus, Erik—you’ve been shot!” I blurted, too loud for the hour.

“Quiet,” he hissed.

“Sorry, but—”

“I’ll be fine. Can I continue?”

“Yeah… yeah,” I said, concern rising.

As he continued to talk, I could not help but notice more flecks of blood on him. What the hell happened, I thought to myself.

“You’ll probably hear about it in the morning, but I wanted you to hear it from me first. To hear my side.”

I stood at the open window in my pajamas, December’s frigid air washing over me, listening with bated breath as Erik told his story.

“I was lying in my tent, thinking about going home, when I heard a woman scream. Coming out of the tent, her cries grew clearer, mixed with a dog’s frantic barking. I froze, trying to pinpoint the sound. Then she shouted ‘No!’ and ‘Stop!’—and I ran toward it.

Through the trees, her pleas grew louder. I broke into a small clearing just as she escaped from one of her three attackers, tripping as she did so, and cracking her head against a jagged rock as she fell. Blood spilled from the wound. I knew instantly she was gone by the way her body was sprawled on the ground. My suspicion was confirmed when one of the delinquents standing over her bent down and checked her pulse. He shook his head and looked up with a smile. It was my brother, Kevin.”

I mouthed, Oh shit, as Erik pressed on.

“Kevin stood up from the woman’s body. The dog—a puppy really—charged him, yapping and growling, leash trailing. Kevin stared at the pup coming at him and smirked. When the thing got close enough, he punted it away like a ball.

I should have walked away, and called the police. But you know me—I can’t keep my nose out of trouble.

‘Kevin!’ I shouted.

He spun around, startled, then grinned his Cheshire‑cat grin when he saw it was me.

‘Well, well, well. The prodigal brother returns. Erik. Bro. Where the hell have you been? Dad’s been sooo worried about you.’ His grin twisted into a sneer. ‘So worried he’s been taking it out on me.’

I said nothing. My silence enraged him. ‘SAY SOMETHING!’ he bellowed.

I didn’t.

Usually I can predict what Kevin is going to do when he’s angered. Not this time. He pulled out a gun, pointed, and fired. The shot thundered like a cannon. I dove to the ground, but not before the bullet grazed my shoulder.

I’d heard rumors Kevin had a gun, but I never believed he’d use it—especially on me. That was my mistake.

As I lay there, he hooted and hollered. His cronies gasped. I heard them say, ‘Oh my god, you actually shot him!’ and ‘Do you think he’s dead?’

Kevin laughed. ‘Who cares? He’s just a freak.’

That was when I stood. All three saw me rise. Rage twisted Kevin’s face. He charged, forgetting the gun still clutched in his hand.

He tackled me, but I pinned his arms between us. Then—without warning—a muffled bang. Kevin went limp. I shoved him off and saw the bullet hole blooming red in his chest. His eyes glazed, his face slack. I didn’t need to check to know he was dead.

I screamed, anguish tearing through me, clutching my brother as tears fell onto his face. I don’t know how long I held him. When I finally looked up, his friends were gone.

I placed Kevin’s head gently on the ground and stood up. Seeing the puppy whimpering beside the woman, I scooped it up and fled, leaving both bodies behind. Someone must have heard the shots. I couldn’t stay.

I wandered for hours, trying to clear my head before coming here to tell you.”

I was stunned beyond belief. Kevin—dead? Killed by Erik’s own hand. Granted, Kevin had tried to kill him first. The wound on Erik’s shoulder proved it. Kevin was troubled. He and his asshole friends tormented me constantly. That was how I first met Erik—he saved me from one of Kevin’s bloody taunts. I believed him when he said he hadn’t meant to kill his brother. But still…

I stared at the floor, wishing I could close the window and forget everything. When I looked back up, Erik seemed to recede into the branches, swallowed by shadows.

It took me some time before I spoke. Finally, I croaked, “Wh‑what are you going to do? Where will you go?”

From the darkness: “I don’t know. But I can’t stay. I’ll try to be in touch, but not soon.”

I was about to reply when my bedroom door opened. The light snapped on, blinding me.

“What the hell!” I cried, shielding my eyes.

“That’s what I was going to say,” came my mother’s voice.

I lowered my arm, now that my eyes were adjusting to the light. I saw my mother just inside the doorway, her arms folded, eyes glaring.

“Mom? What are you doing up?” I tried to sound casual.

“Me? What are you still doing up?” She retorted, brushing past me to the open window.

Shit I thought. If she looked out, she might see Erik—or the dog.

“It’s freezing in here.” She said as she shut the window, then turned to face me, arms folded.

“What were you doing with it open?”

“I was hot. Needed to cool off.” I replied.

“Uh‑ huh.” Her arms folded tighter, giving me a look of I don’t believe you.

“It’s late. Go to bed.” She said, walking past me, turning off the light and shutting the door behind her as she leaves.

“Good night,” calling through the door.

“Night.” I murmur back.

And that was that.

She must have known I was talking to Erik. She had caught me once before, talking to the tree outside, but she had chosen to ignore it.

I am guessing my parents still do not know what happened at Alley Pond Park. Otherwise, I would have gotten a very different lecture.

I ran back to the window and reopened it.

“Erik? You there?” I whispered. No answer.

I looked down. The dog was gone. Erik was gone.

I shut the window and stood there for a moment before crawling back into bed, shivering as adrenaline drained away. Sleep came slowly.

That was almost two weeks ago. I haven’t seen Erik since.

When my mother learned what happened in the park, she grilled me. I told her everything that Erik told me.

The police came to see me. Erik’s mom told them I was his best friend. The detective asked if Erik had come to me that night. I lied. Thankfully my mother didn’t rat me out.

Erik was right. He had to leave. He had no choice.

Tomorrow school starts back up after being off for winter break. But all I can think is whether I’ll ever see my friend again.

Not the End.