Stay

*****This story contains elements of animal abuse and death.

She’ll come.

That’s one of the things I love about Becca. She always comes back for me. Loyal, steady — my person from the very beginning. The first time we met, I knew we belonged to each other. I think she knew it too. Some connections happen instantly, like you’ve known someone forever before you even learn their smell.

Life changed around us plenty of times, but we stayed the same. Wherever Becca went, I went.

She’ll expect me to be right where Derek left me, so I’ll wait here beneath the shade tree.

It’s a nice day. Warm sun. Soft breeze.

It reminds me of our walks together.

“It’s too pretty to stay inside, Rex,” Becca would say. “Wanna go for a walk?”

I always answered the way she liked best — bouncing circles around her until she laughed and grabbed the leash. Then we’d head down the busy streets together while she sang softly to herself. Even with strangers crowding past us and cars rushing by, it always felt like it was just the two of us.

Sometimes Derek came too, but the walks still belonged to me and Becca.

Still, I can’t stop wondering why Derek brought me here.

It’s pretty enough, I guess. Quiet. Different from the city streets. The air smells wild — grass, dirt, trees, and little animals hiding somewhere nearby. No crowds. No sharp perfume smells. Just sunshine, wind, and the occasional rustle in the brush.

Becca would like this place.

Derek should have brought her too.

I’m surprised Derek brought me somewhere like this at all.

He’s never really been my favorite person, even if Becca loves him. There’s something about his smell I never trusted. I noticed it the first day she brought him home. Sharp. Wrong somehow. Dogs know these things.

I tried to tell her, of course. I barked at him and stayed between them whenever he got too close. But Becca just laughed and scratched behind my ears like I was being silly.

Not long after that, Derek started staying all the time.

First it was a jacket draped over a chair. Then shoes by the door. Then boxes, clothes, and all the other things humans pile around themselves. The whole house slowly started smelling like him. Worse, he was strange about his belongings. If I even tried to sniff them, he’d snap at me in that low, growly voice of his.

I don’t think he likes me much either.

Whenever Becca leaves us alone together, he shuts me in my room. Honestly, I don’t mind. I’d rather stay there than sit beside him while he stares at that glowing box in the living room.

Still, I always wait by the door when I hear Becca’s car.

Things feel right again when she comes home.

I wish Becca would hurry.

I want to go home.

It’s pretty here, sure, but I’m starting to get hungry. My tongue feels dry too, and Derek forgot to pack my water bowl. Becca never forgets my bowl. She always double-checks before we leave anywhere.

“Got your leash? Treats? Water bowl?” she’d say, talking mostly to herself while I waited by the door, tail thumping against the wall.

She always remembered the important things.

The sun doesn’t feel quite as nice now. It’s hotter than before, pressing down through the trees while the shade keeps getting smaller around me. I shift in the grass and glance toward the road again, ears lifting at every distant sound.

No Becca yet.

Maybe Derek just got delayed. Humans are slow about everything. Maybe he stopped somewhere on the way back to get her.

That has to be it.

Because Becca would never leave me waiting this long.

Maybe I should head home. Maybe something’s wrong.

I push myself up from the dirt and step out from beneath the shade tree, lifting my nose to the breeze to search for Becca’s scent. But the wind carries nothing familiar. No trace of her shampoo. No smell of Derek’s truck. Nothing but grass, warm earth, and distant animals moving somewhere deep in the trees.

Even Derek’s scent is fading now.

Something is wrong. I know it.

A nervous whine slips out before I can stop it. I take a few hesitant steps forward, nose working hard as I search for anything familiar — a footprint, a scent trail, some sign that Becca is nearby and waiting for me.

But the woods stay quiet.

For the first time since Derek left, my tail sinks low behind me.

Oh, Becca. Please hurry. I miss you.

I can’t remember ever being away from her this long.

She has to be missing me too. At night, I always sleep beside her bed so I can keep watch while she rests. Humans are terrible at noticing danger when they sleep. That’s why they need dogs.

Especially Becca.

Derek can’t be trusted to keep her safe. He sleeps too hard. Too deep. More than once, I heard strange noises outside at night and barked until Becca woke up. Derek would just grumble and roll over while she checked the windows.

Without me there to warn her, anything could happen.

The thought makes my chest ache.

I pace a nervous circle beneath the trees, ears twitching at every sound. A branch creaks somewhere overhead. Leaves rustle nearby, and I freeze, hopeful for one terrible second that it might be her.

But it’s only the wind.

I whine softly and stare down the empty road again.

Come get me, Becca.

As the sun sinks lower, the world begins to change around me. Daytime smells fade, replaced by cooler air, damp earth, and the sharp scent of animals beginning to wake. Strange sounds drift through the trees now — rustling leaves, chirping insects, distant cries I don’t recognize.

I curl against the base of the tree and keep watch.

It’s well past my usual feeding time, and the hollow ache in my stomach only makes the worry worse.

The only other time Becca was ever this late feeding me was when she got hurt.

I remember how she smelled afterward — pain, medicine, fear. She stayed on the couch for days while I laid beside her, close enough to protect her. Whenever she let out one of those soft little sounds humans make when they’re hurting, I’d lick her hand or rest my head against her until she smiled again.

Slowly, she started moving around, though awkwardly. She had a heavy white thing wrapped around her leg that made walking difficult. I stayed close every step she took in case she needed me.

That was the only time I’d ever been grateful Derek was around.

Without him, Becca would have struggled. Even with my help.

The memory makes my ears flatten.

Maybe she’s hurt again.

Maybe that’s why she hasn’t come for me.

The thought stays with me as daylight finally slips away.

Becca could be hurt. Alone. Waiting for me.

I can’t stay here anymore.

I push to my feet and lift my nose high into the cool night air, breathing in deeply. The world is crowded with scents now — damp leaves, tree bark, distant water, animals hiding in the dark. I sort through them carefully, searching for something familiar.

Becca’s soap.

Derek’s truck.

Home.

Anything.

My paws begin to move before I even decide where I’m going. Instinct pulls me forward through the trees, nose working constantly as I search for a trail strong enough to follow.

Every few steps, I stop and sniff again.

Nothing.

Panic prickles beneath my fur, but I force myself onward. Becca needs me. I know she does.

A branch snaps somewhere nearby, and I freeze, ears standing tall. My heart pounds as I stare into the darkness between the trees.

“Becca?” I bark before I can stop myself.

The woods answer with silence.

Still, I keep walking.

Finally, my nose catches a familiar scent. Faint, but instantly recognizable. A smell woven so deeply into my everyday life that I hardly noticed it before now.

Cars.

Soon, I hear them too — the steady hum of humans rushing somewhere beyond the trees. My hunger and thirst vanish beneath a burst of hope. I bark toward the distant headlights flashing through the darkness. There are so many of them, speeding past while I remain hidden among the thick brush lining the road.

But I have to reach them.

If humans are here, then home can’t be far away. Someone can help me get back to Becca.

I push through the brush and step into the harsh white lights. The cars roar past, so loud they swallow my barking completely. A horn suddenly blasts, sharp and angry, and I leap backward into the bushes with a startled yelp.

My heart pounds hard against my ribs.

But I have to try again.

Becca needs me.

The next time headlights appear, I force myself farther forward, stepping directly into the road. The lights rush toward me, blinding and huge.

Please stop.

Please help me find her.

The next set of headlights appears around the bend, brighter than the others. I gather my courage and step fully into the road, barking as loudly as I can.

Please stop.

The lights grow larger.

Too fast.

A terrible screech cuts through the night. The smell of burning fills the air as the car swerves, but there isn’t enough time. Something slams into me with crushing force.

Suddenly, the world flips.

Pain explodes through my body before the ground strikes me hard. The sounds around me blur together — tires skidding, humans shouting, a car door slamming somewhere nearby.

Then everything goes strangely quiet.

I try to stand.

My legs won’t listen.

Warmth spreads beneath me, carrying away the pain little by little until all I feel is heavy and tired. The trees above sway softly in the darkness, their leaves whispering together in the breeze.

A human voice trembles nearby. Another joins it. Hands touch my fur carefully, but I barely notice anymore.

My thoughts drift somewhere far away.

To soft singing on crowded sidewalks.

To sunlight through apartment windows.

To Becca laughing while I chased her through the park.

I can almost smell her now.

My tail gives the faintest twitch against the pavement.

I’m coming home, Becca.

The darkness closes around me gently after that, quiet and warm, and for one peaceful moment, I could almost swear I feel her hand resting against my head once more.

I knew she’d come.