– No way! Suzy is coming with us! She’s my dog, mine! – the boy’s voice trembled with tears, but desperation rang through it. Maria had never heard anyone scream like that before. It wasn’t a tantrum – it was a cry from the heart, filled with pain that had become familiar over his ten years of life.
She stepped forward carefully, reaching out her hands, but Peter shrank away, curling up on the bed. He didn’t want to listen. He didn’t want to understand that Suzy was no longer there.
Maria knew what to do – just wait. Give him time. She couldn’t heal all his wounds in a single day, but she could be there for him.
That night, Peter screamed again.
Deafening, furious screams in the dark… Someone overturned a table – the sound of breaking dishes, shrieks. The air was heavy, soaked with fear and the stench of cheap alcohol. Everything trembled: the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the air, her own heart.
Everything trembled inside and out.
But suddenly, something big and furry was beside him. It warmed him, wrapped around him gently, as if protecting him from all the horror. His eyes, tightly shut in terror, slowly relaxed. He wanted to sleep…
And then – noise again. Nowhere to run. No one to help. Only the cold, dirty floor.
Scary. So scary…
A drawn-out scream echoed from the children’s room. Maria, barely regaining her senses, rushed to the boy.
Peter lay there, frozen, staring at the ceiling, his whole body trembling. Tears rolled down his cheeks, but he made no sound.
– I’m here, sweetheart, shh… – Maria sat on the edge of the bed and gently ran her hand through his tangled hair.
He didn’t react. As always.
The nightlight cast its glow in his wet eyes, but his gaze remained empty.
It had been a month since she and her husband had adopted Peter. They had loved him instantly, despite the fact that he was withdrawn, fearful, as if always expecting a blow, even though here, one would never come.
Maria knew how hard it was to trust. How difficult it was to believe things could be different.
– Another bad dream? – she asked softly, hoping for an answer.
Peter was silent.
– You can tell me anything. I’ll understand.
He turned to the wall and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Another attempt to connect had failed.
Maria sat for a while longer, stroked his shoulder, then quietly stood up.
– There’s no one here, just us. Sleep well, – she said from the doorway.
Silence.
But after a second…
– That’s exactly the problem…
Maria froze. She turned back.
– What did you say, sweetheart?
A quiet sniffle came from under the blanket:
– There’s no one here. No my dog…
She carefully stepped closer. Peter wiped his nose with his sleeve and, hesitantly, began to speak.
It was the longest thing he had said in a month.
He told her about Suzy – the big, gentle dog who was always there. Who protected him, warmed him, comforted him. Suzy wasn’t afraid of the screams, didn’t hide like he did. She always stayed close.
– I used to sleep with her. She kept me safe from… them, – Peter stumbled. He never said “parents.”
Maria remained silent. Just listened.
– And then they said she wouldn’t be there anymore, – his voice broke. – And I couldn’t save her…
She felt her heart clench with pain. He was so small. And had already endured so much.
Maria knelt beside the bed and hugged the boy tightly, even if he hadn’t expected it.
– I’m sorry, – she whispered.
Peter didn’t reply. But he didn’t pull away either.
The next morning, Maria called David. He was silent on the other end of the line for a long time, then sighed and said quietly:
– I think we have room for one more family member.
That same day, they went to the shelter.
Peter didn’t know where they were taking him. He sat sullenly in the back seat until the car stopped. Then he lifted his head and saw the sign.
– A shelter? – his voice was surprised and uncertain.
– Let’s take a look, – Maria took his hand.
He didn’t pull away. And an hour later, sitting on the floor among dozens of dogs, he suddenly smiled.
In front of him stood a fluffy dog with kind brown eyes. The dog cautiously leaned in and licked his cheek.
Peter let out a quiet gasp.
Maria felt warmth spread through her heart.
And that evening, for the first time in a month, no screams echoed from the children’s room. Only the quiet breathing of a boy curled up in a ball, and beside him – a warm bundle of fur.
**Where It’s Warm.**
