Chapter 3

"You haven't paid a dime of what you owe, and you've got the nerve to eat?"

He slammed the grocery bag violently onto the floor.

"Eat this, you bitch! Let's see you eat this!"

He stomped his boots right onto the packets of instant ramen.

I just stared numbly at the plastic wrappers and crushed noodles scattered across the floor.

His vicious insults became background noise.

My ears were ringing so loudly I thought my head was going to split open.

The first time I experienced this kind of ringing was at my father's funeral.

My mom died when I was little.

When I was eighteen, my dad committed a hit-and-run that left a man dead.

Before the cops could arrest him, he jumped off the roof of our apartment building. Right in front of me.

That same night, my stepmother packed up my half-brother and moved out of state.

My relatives looked at me like I carried a deadly plague.

I was the only one who showed up to his funeral.

The victim's widow had somehow found out about the service.

She showed up at the funeral home with a dozen angry relatives.

They tore the floral arrangements apart and cornered me.

They shoved me against the wall, their slaps raining down on me one after another.

Every time I tried to shield my face, they hit me harder. I tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go.

That day, I curled up on the cold carpet of the funeral parlor, one single voice ringing in my ears.

"Your father ruined our lives! He owed us a million and a half in the wrongful death settlement, and since he took the coward's way out, you're going to pay for it!"

They stormed into the apartment and took everything of value, leaving the place completely bare.

They even took the mattress I slept on.

Every month since then, the widow sent people to my door to harass me for the money.

I couldn't even count how many times this exact scene had played out.

"Woof! Woof! Aarrff!"

The barking cut through the piercing ring in my ears, pulling me back to reality.

Out of the corner of my eye, a golden blur squeezed through the half-open front door and lunged right at the man.

"Back off, bad man! I'll bite you to pieces!"

The guy stumbled backward in terror.

He grabbed the stair rail so hard his knuckles turned white, barely saving himself from falling down the steps.

Buddy looked ready to chase him all the way down to the street. I quickly called out to him.

"Buddy, come here."

The Golden Retriever stopped instantly.

He spun around and stood fiercely in front of me, growling at the man.

"You... you're gonna regret this!" the guy stammered, cursing as he scrambled down the stairs.

I knelt down and dug through the mess on the floor until I found the can of wet dog food.

"Thank God. The lid's completely dented, but it's still good."

I popped the tab, opened the can, and set it in front of Buddy.

"Thanks for that, by the way."

"I wasn't trying to help you," Buddy grumbled, his tail doing a stiff little wag. "I just can't stand bad guys."

"Right, right. Whatever you say, Buddy."

Buddy looked like he wanted to argue some more, but his muzzle was already plunging into the wet food.

After polishing it off in three massive bites, he licked his chops.

He stared at the floor, then up at me.

"Your noodles are all smashed. What are you going to eat?"

I took a plastic bag and carefully picked out the chunks of instant ramen that hadn't touched the dirty floor.

I gave him a careless smile.

"It's fine. The ramen just broke a few bones. It's still perfectly edible."

After cleaning up, I took Buddy downstairs for a walk along the neighborhood sidewalk.

When we passed the local police precinct, I crouched down and looked him in the eye, explaining patiently.

"The people working in this building are good guys who help people."

"Next time a guy like that shows up, don't just charge at him by yourself. You run straight here and get the police officers to help, understand?"

Buddy actually looked offended.

It was crazy seeing pure indignation on a dog's face.

He probably thought I doubted his ability to protect me.

I quickly added, "If you protect me like you did today, you could get really hurt."

A flash of sadness passed through his eyes—maybe he remembered the last time he got injured.

But a second later, his eyes lit up again.

He stared at me hesitantly, his ears pinned back, as if troubled by something wrong.

"The upstairs floor... Can I ask them for help for upstairs, too?"

I frowned, not entirely sure what he meant.

After coaxing a few more details out of him, I finally understood.

The dog belonging to the young couple upstairs—Sloan and Tyler—had been barking wildly all afternoon.

Buddy said the dog kept screaming, "Kill him! Kill him!"

It was giving Buddy a headache.

But when I asked Buddy exactly who was supposed to be killed, he shook his head.

He had no idea.

I stared up at the ceiling.

My gut was telling me that whatever was happening up there, it wasn't just a normal couple's fight...