Felix
Jenny was studying at university and, like most students, worked part-time, mostly night shifts. Her mum couldn’t help her financially, and a student grant alone wasn’t enough to survive in the big city.
After her summer exams, she took a break and spent three weeks at her mum’s. She returned rested, well-slept, loaded with homegrown vegetables and jars of jam carefully packed into her bag by her mother.
Jenny stepped off the bus at the station square. After the long journey, the bag felt twice as heavy. She dragged herself to the minibus stop and sighed with relief as she placed her burden on the bench.
Coming back to the city felt right. Her mum’s place was cosy, but after two years alone, she’d grown used to being independent. She missed the buzz of the city, her friends. Once she started working, she could finally afford to rent a tiny flat and leave student halls behind.
The flat was small, tucked away in a quiet suburb, but the rent was manageable. The windows overlooked an overgrown wasteland, and beyond it, woods stood like a wall. No lights at night, but in the morning, sunlight flooded the place. And in winter, the snow-covered wasteland made it eerily bright even after dark.
A faint whimper caught her attention. Jenny peeked under the bench and spotted a sharp brown muzzle. Big, bulging dark eyes stared back, full of fear and loneliness. Only then did she notice the leash tying the dog to the bench. She crouched down. The dachshund shrank further into the shadow of the bench, trembling all over.
“Don’t be scared. Come out,” Jenny murmured, gently tugging the leash.
Reluctantly, still whining, the dog crept out, ready to bolt back under at the slightest threat.
But Jenny held the leash firmly.
The dog panted hard, tongue lolling. August had been unusually hot. No wonder the poor thing had hidden under the bench, desperate for shade.
Jenny guessed it was thirsty. Nearby stood a kiosk selling drinks and snacks.
“Back in a sec,” she whispered to the dachshund before hurrying over.
“A small bottle of water, please,” Jenny asked the surly vendor. “Oh—you don’t happen to have an empty tin can, do you?”
“How about a paper cup instead?” the woman smirked.
“No, a dog can’t drink from a cup. There’s a dachshund tied up by the bench. Any idea how long it’s been there?”
The woman squinted toward the bench and sighed.
“People can be cruel. I opened up at eight, saw a bloke pull up in a fancy car, leash the dog there, and drive off. Never came back. Reckon he dumped it. Here—it’s not washed, mind.” She handed Jenny an empty sardine tin.
Thanking her, Jenny paid for the water—twice the price of any shop in town—and rushed back. She rinsed the tin, filled it, and set it down. The dachshund had retreated under the bench again.
“Drink. It’s okay.”
The dog crept forward, sniffed, then lapped noisily at the water. When it finished, Jenny refilled the tin.
“What do I do with you? Stray dogs will tear you apart at night. Or worse—rough sleepers might… ugh.” The thought made her shudder. “Coming with me? Not like you’ve got a choice.”
She scribbled her number on a scrap of paper and left it at the kiosk, just in case the owner turned up. Untying the leash, she coaxed the reluctant dog toward the approaching minibus. She paid for two tickets—just in case—but neither the driver nor passengers complained. The dog stayed quiet on her lap, not a peep.
At home, it cowered in the hallway corner, sniffing, wary of the unfamiliar smells. Jenny folded a blanket into a bed. The dachshund immediately curled up on it, dark eyes tracking her every move.
“What’s your name?” Jenny mused aloud, listing dog names. “Not that one? How about… Felix?”
The dog yipped.
“Felix it is, then.” Another yip. “You actually understand? Who’d leave you like that?”
That night, Jenny listened to claws click against laminate. Felix left his corner, exploring. The moment she stirred, he darted back. But within days, he settled in, whining excitedly when she came home, the flat no longer silent.
The courtyard was packed with cars, so their walks were confined to the wasteland. Once away from roads, she’d unclip his leash—half expecting him to bolt—but he always returned when called. She marvelled at how he zipped through the tall grass on those stubby legs.
September arrived, dry and warm, and with it, classes. Night shifts resumed. Felix spent most days alone, waiting eagerly for her return. Soon, she couldn’t imagine life without him.
One Sunday morning, they headed to the wasteland as usual. Felix circled her before bolting toward the woods. Jenny followed, calling, but the grass tangled around her ankles. She stopped.
“Felix! Home!”
Silence.
“Found a rabbit hole, maybe?” Then—a sharp yelp, cut short. Heart pounding, she ran toward the sound. The woods were thinner than they seemed. Through the trees, she spotted a clearing where a group of boys crouched, examining something. Fifteen, maybe. She wasn’t afraid.
“Hey! Have you seen—”
At her voice, they leapt up. And then she saw Felix—pinned to the ground by a sharpened stick jutting from his side. Blood pooled beneath him.
The tallest boy yanked the stick free. Felix convulsed, whimpering. Blood gushed.
The boy stepped toward Jenny, brandishing the bloody stake. He loomed over her, his friends flanking him. Their grins chilled her. She tried to scream—nothing came out.
His eyes were empty. Dead.
She turned and ran. Grass snagged her legs, but she pushed forward, chanting in her head: *Don’t fall, don’t fall—* Behind her, footsteps thudded, grass hissed—like the breath of something chasing her.
Almost home. Cars ahead. One last sprint—
Something heavy slammed between her shoulder blades. Pain stole her breath. She crashed onto her knees, bracing for the next blow, the stake piercing her back—
Nothing.
Maybe they’d chickened out. Hurled a rock and vanished into the grass.
She crawled to the road. A silver car screeched to a halt. A man jumped out, helping her up. Each breath sent fire through her back.
“Who did this?” he demanded.
Jenny pointed weakly. “Three… four boys. They—they killed Felix. Stabbed him.”
“Your boyfriend? Husband?”
“My *dog*! Please—he’s still there—he’ll bleed out!”
Relief flickered in his eyes. Just a dog.
“Stay here.” He flagged down another car, and the two men vanished into the wasteland.
An eternity later, they returned. One carried a blood-soaked bundle. Felix—alive, but barely.
“Get in. Vet, now.”
In the back seat, Jenny cradled him, stroking his head. His breaths were ragged, eyes glazed.
“We didn’t find them. Could you identify them?” the man asked.
“One,” she whispered.
Felix died before they reached the clinic.
Jenny couldn’t bring herself to remove his bed or water bowl. Nights were the worst—she’d wake, certain she heard claws on the floor. Returning home, she’d pause, half-expecting his joyful whimpers. Only silence greeted her.
Autumn’s chill set in. One evening, leaving a shop, she collided with a boy—*him*. Those cold, grey eyes locked onto hers.
She opened her mouth—
He spun and sprinted. A screech of brakes. Rounding the corner, she found him sprawled on the tarmac.
“You saw that, right? He jumped out!” the driver pleaded.
An ambulance arrived, then police. One officer approached.
“You again?”
She blinked. It was the man who’d carried Felix.
“That’s *him*,” she stammered. “He recognised me—ran—”
Two weeks later, her doorbell buzzed incessantly. Groggy, she yanked the door open—and froze. A man stood there, holding a squirming carrier.
“Oh!” She slammed the door, scrambled for a robe, then reopened it.
“Sorry to wake you. Work call—no one to watch her.” He handed over the bag.
Something moved inside. Jenny unzipped it—a tiny brown muzzle poked out. Big, frightened eyes.
“Thought a girl might be less… reminder. Her name’s Fiona.”
“Fiona.” Jenny lifted the trembling dachshund, hugging her close. A lick on her chin made her laugh—soft, surprised.
“Glad you kept it,” the man nodded at Felix’s bed.
“Couldn’t bear to.” She hugged FionaAnd as Fiona curled up in the crook of her arm, Jenny finally felt the quiet warmth of healing settle over her heart.
