A warm May afternoon wrapped Riverside Park in sunlight, but for me, Leo, the warmth was always a little fleeting. My worn blue shirt, patched at the elbow, felt thin against the breeze. My best friend, Finn, and I lay under a sprawling maple tree, our shaggy, joyful companion, Rex, panting happily beside us. Rex wasn’t my dog, but in my heart, he was.
“Watch this, Leo!” Finn grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Rex, paw!”
The scruffy terrier mix, all loyalty and boundless energy, slapped his paw into Finn’s hand with an eager thump. Laughter erupted from us both as Rex, in a burst of affection, tackled Finn with sloppy kisses.
“You spoil him too much,” I said, a bittersweet ache in my chest.
Finn just ruffled Rex’s fur. “How could I not? He’s my best friend in the whole world.”
“I wish I had a dog,” I murmured, looking away, tracing patterns in the grass. “But Mom says we can’t afford pets. Not even a goldfish.”
Finn nudged my shoulder. “You have me,” he smiled, a genuine, comforting warmth in his gaze. “And you have Rex. I’ll bring treats tomorrow. You can feed him yourself.”
Later, as Finn left with Rex trotting faithfully at his heels, a strange heaviness settled over me. Our apartment on Willow Street smelled of old wood and quiet hope, a scent that was both comforting and melancholic. My mom, Maria, was on the couch, mending a tear in her work uniform. She looked up, her smile tired but loving. “Did you have fun, Leo?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, kicking off my worn sneakers. “Rex learned how to shake.”
“I’m glad you have a friend like him,” she said, her eyes soft. “And you’ve got me too, remember?”
Life hadn’t always been like this. After Mom’s injury at the factory and Dad’s sudden departure, everything changed. Money became a constant, suffocating worry. Luxuries like pets were out of the question. But Mom and I, we held on. We always did.
The Shadow of Doubt and a Friend’s Disappearance
The next day, Finn came to the park, but his usual sparkle was gone. His shoulders were slumped, and his brow was furrowed with a worry that mirrored my own.
“It’s Greta,” he muttered, kicking at a loose pebble. “Dad’s leaving on a trip, and she’s moving in. Permanently.” Greta was his stepmom, a woman whose smile never quite reached her eyes, especially when she looked at Rex.
“She hates Rex,” Finn continued, his voice cracking. “Says he’s dirty, that he sheds too much. She won’t even let me walk him anymore. Last night, he curled up under my bed, whimpering. He knew I was scared, Leo.”
I felt a cold knot form in my stomach. Rex was more than a dog; he was Finn’s anchor, his joy. “You’re not alone, Finn,” I said gently, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m here. We’ll figure something out.”
But after that day, Finn didn’t return to the park. I waited. Every day, after school, I’d sit under the same maple tree, my eyes scanning the path, my heart aching with a silent dread. Nothing. No Finn. No Rex. The silence of the park, once comforting, now felt vast and empty. My worries about Greta, about Rex, grew with each passing day.
A Desperate Dawn and a Horrifying Discovery
One early morning, I woke with a terrible, gnawing feeling in my gut. A cold dread that wouldn’t let me sleep. If Finn wasn’t allowed to walk Rex… what would Greta do? The thought, sharp and terrifying, cut through the morning quiet. I couldn’t shake the image of Greta’s cold eyes, her disdain for the gentle dog.
I slipped out of the apartment, leaving a hurried note for Mom, and headed straight for the river, a place I knew Greta sometimes drove by on her way to work. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of fear and premonition. I hid behind a thick, dew-laden bush near the water’s edge, shivering, but not from the cold.
The sun was just beginning to paint the sky with streaks of orange and pink when a sleek silver car pulled up, its tires crunching on the gravel. My breath hitched. It was her. Greta. She stepped out, tall and unfeeling, her face a stark silhouette against the dawn. She opened the trunk.
My blood ran cold. She pulled out a burlap sack. It was rough, dark, and utterly terrifying. And then, my eyes widened in horror. It wriggled. A desperate, muffled movement from within the coarse fabric.
My mind screamed. No. It can’t be. Not Rex.
Without hesitation, without a flicker of remorse, she swung the heavy bag and threw it with a sickening splash into the dark, swirling river.
“NO!” I screamed, a raw, primal sound tearing from my throat. I burst from my hiding place, sprinting towards the water, my bare feet slapping against the cold, damp earth.
She didn’t even flinch. She just got back into her car, her face impassive, and drove off, leaving me alone with the horrifying ripples in the water.
My shoes were a forgotten thought. I kicked them off, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs, and dove into the icy grip of the river. The cold shocked me, stealing my breath, but the image of that wriggling bag, of Rex, propelled me forward. I had to save him. I had to.
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