Heretic

Written By: Gregg Maxwell Parker

The first thing I do when I wake up is let Grover out. Covers kicked off, early-morning sunlight through open curtains, I turn the ancient knob and walk to the living room. Usually, Grover is already waiting by the back door. But he's not there, not in his bed next to the couch.

I see him. He cowers in the corner, by the TV.

What's up, bud?

He whimpers. I take a step closer.

He growls.

You feel okay?

He bears his teeth, gnashes at the air.

I open the back door. Grover doesn't move. I prepare his food and set it down. He doesn't go. I try getting close to him again, and again he growls. It's like he's afraid of me. Like I'm a stranger.

I hope he isn't hurt. I leave him be.

While I shower, I hear eating, and the door smacking the wall as he goes outside. I'm lucky to have a backyard. That's one of the perks of living in a small town. I live alone with Grover.

Dressed, I come back to the living room. Grover is back in the corner.

Hey, bud.

I approach. He whimpers and bears his teeth. I look for one of his toys. He runs under the couch. I didn't know he could fit under the couch. I'm late for work, so I leave him there. I hope he will be back to normal by the time I get home.

***

I don't know what I would have done without Grover. Stephanie dumped me right after my mom died. All I have left is this dog. I know it's stupid, but he's the best friend I have. People say that, but for me, it's true. I worry about him as I drive to work. I hope he's not sick or hurt. I couldn't see anything wrong physically. Something scared him.

***

I work for the city. When people file unemployment or disability claims, they see me. I send their paperwork on and inform them about their benefits. I don't make decisions, but the people who come in don't know that, so they tell me their stories even though it won't do them any good.

Today, a woman tells me about her daughter. The daughter is disabled, but that's not why she's here. The woman was an independent contractor who quit her job when they asked her to go back to work in person. She probably thinks telling me will soften my heart and help her case. I have a soft heart, but I can't help her. I don't tell her this because I like the few moments where she cares what I think.

I see Beatriz in the break room. She wears black pants and a red sweater.

Aren't you hot in that?

I'm not putting on a sleeveless top until I lose some of my winter weight. I'm seven pounds heavier than last year.

Oh, please, girl. You know you fine.

She laughs. I hope that little voice I just did wasn't racist. I go out for lunch because I'm too nervous to talk to her for an entire hour. I eat a sandwich in my car.

***

Grover acts the same when I get home. He won't react to food, treats, toys. When I go near him, he backs up, low to the ground. I get his leash and try to put it on. He snaps at me, bites at my hand, but I pull it away fast enough.

Bad dog. I yell at him in a stern voice.

I don't hit Grover. We used to hit our dog when I was a kid, but I know now that hitting isn't the way to train a dog. I deny him his walk because he bit at me. I order him to get in his carrier. He goes.

Before bed, I let him out, but he doesn't move. He stays in there while I go to bed.

In the morning, he growls at me. When I stand in the kitchen, he goes out back to poop and pee. I put treats on his food to get him to eat, but he won't go near the food if I'm standing there. I try to pet him, and he growls. I look at his legs from a distance, but I don't see anything wrong. I feel bad leaving him when I go to work.

***

The last time I spoke to my mother, she was in the hospital. I asked if she wanted me to come home.

No, she said. There's too many people here already.

I worry about you.

What are you going to do? Just sit here? You're not really a part of the family anymore anyway. It'll just cause problems.

Tell the family that if anything changes, I want them to call me.

Wouldn't want you to leave your important job and your child bride. You're too busy for us.

I told her to take care of herself. She hung up without saying anything else. I took Grover for a long walk. I texted Stephanie when we walked by her place, but she didn't answer. After we got back, I drank a bottle of wine by myself and fell asleep on the couch.

***

I take Grover to the vet. It's been so long since he needed to go, the old vet has retired. The new vet is Dr. Light, an Asian man with glasses. He pets Grover as I explain what's happened.

There's nothing causing him pain, he says. He's just scared. Is he a new dog?

No. I've had him for four years.

Have you hit him during training?

No. Never.

He looks like he doesn't believe me.

Don't charge at him suddenly or move your hands toward his face in an aggressive manner. That can trigger a dog that's been through trauma.

I make a point of petting Grover as we leave, showing affection. The vet watches me suspiciously. I feel the staff at the front desk watching me too. Grover is good until we get in the car. Usually he sits in the front seat, but this time, he crawls into the back.

***

One time I picked up Stephanie at her place. When I hugged her, she pulled back.

You smell, she said.

Like what? I asked. I tried to smell it, but couldn't.

Just… strange.

She didn't bring it up again. But that night, I felt her standing apart from me, not wanting to get close. She said she wanted to sleep in the next morning, so she wanted to stay at home instead of with me. She's in school, so she can do that. I said okay.

I started wearing body spray. She never said anything about the smell again, but I could hear her sniff sometimes. She didn't walk as close to me. I bought expensive shampoo and conditioner. I went to a salon. I tried different clothes. I don't think she noticed.

***

At the music store, there's an old dachshund that sits in a swivel chair up front. His name is Pogue. He's always listed as Employee of the Month. When I buy guitar strings, I usually pet him on the way out.

As they're processing my credit card, I say hi to Pogue. I lean down and reach my hand out.

Pogue growls.

I pull my hand back. He sits up. He barks at me.

He doesn't like new people, says Terry.

I'm not new, so I know that's not true.

Pogue barks until I leave. Through the window, I see him lie back down.

***

It's hard to make friends as a 30-year-old in a college town. The bars are filled with kids.

Community activities are filled with families. I live on a quiet street. I rarely see people like me.

My coworkers work independently, so we don't interact much. I never realized how lonely I am.

I used to have Grover on the couch with me. Now he rushes into whichever room I'm not in. I watch TV alone and go to sleep.

***

A man brings a rejection letter for his disability claim. I explain that he can appeal, but it will involve a court hearing and he'll have to find an attorney.

I explained everything to you. If you were going to reject me, why didn't you say so?

It's not my decision. I just file the paperwork.

I'm going to lose my house you asshole.

I can't help you. I don't have control over that.

You're a horrible person. How can you do this to people?

I let him yell at me until he leaves.

***

Every day, Grover gets more and more frightened. He shivers when I'm in the room. He won't eat or go outside unless I'm completely out of the house. I don't want to leave the back door open while I'm at work, so I go to my car and sit in it until I see him go back inside.

When I go near him, he growls, shows his teeth. When I sit on the couch, he barks at me. I take to eating dinner in my room like when I was a teenager. I don't know what to do. My dog is terrified of me. I lie awake and worry I may have to give him up. But without him I will have nothing.

***

Stephanie broke up with me over the phone. She hadn't answered my texts for three days. I think that gave her time to get over it. When we spoke, she sounded annoyed that I wasn't already out of her life.

You never talk when we're around my friends. That was the only reason she gave.

I could try harder. That doesn't seem like enough of a reason for us to split up after two years.

It hasn't been two years.

It almost has. Are you embarrassed to be with me?

Kind of. I just think eventually I'll find someone who's more like what I want.

I wished I could say the same thing. I was calling to tell her my mother died.

***

The first Saturday of every month, I play music at the library. The kids section has a pit where they do story time. The kids sit on the steps while I play my songs. I've always written for children because they believe anything is possible. They like songs about people who change into something different.

For the half-hour I play, I forget about everything else. I look at their smiles. I sing about a boy who becomes a giraffe, an old man with whiskers so long he sweeps his house with them, a runaway princess who becomes a space pirate. The kids look happy.

Usually the librarian thanks me and the parents bring their kids over to say how much they enjoyed it. This time they don't.

***

Grover got into something in the backyard. His face is covered in mud and there are needles in his cheek. I can't tell if they're from a bush or a porcupine. They look like they hurt.

I get a wet rag. He huddles in the corner and growls at me. I put treats on the bed in front of him. He eats them. I put the rag against his face. He growls again. I put more treats on the bed.

His face is wet now, but it will take more wiping to get the mud off.

I reach for one of the needles. I gently pull, just to see how stuck it is.

Grover lets forth a bellow like I've never heard. He bites my hand. He doesn't let go. His teeth sink in. He whips his head back and forth. I cry out. I try to pull my hand away, but his teeth are sunk in too deep. I grab his jaw and pry with all my might. Eventually I have no choice. I hit him on the nose. He squeals and runs away.

I look at my hand. It's covered in blood. Grover runs to the backyard.

I wash my hand. The cuts are so deep, my thumb shakes. I know I can't fix this myself. I drive to the doctor and get cream and bandages. When I get home, it's raining. I forgot to get Grover back inside and shut the back door. He's tracked mud through the house. I clean it up as best I can with one hand.

I can't play guitar for two weeks. No one asks what happened to my hand, but I can see people at work looking at it.

***

I look online for solutions. Grover may have something called rage syndrome. He may be epileptic. He may be reacting from past trauma. He may have Alzheimer’s. He may be smelling something on me. I throw away the body spray.

At the grocery store, I stand in the aisle with shampoos and deodorants, looking for the ones the web said were scentless. I can't find the spray I'm looking for. I ask a pretty young black girl in a red vest if they have it. She helps me find it in the pet aisle.

Maybe I should try this, she says. My dog is super sensitive.

Yeah, I say, looking at my hand to explain. My little guy has suddenly developed an attitude.

What kind of dog is he?

He's a cocker spaniel.

A cocker spaniel did that?

I nod. She looks sympathetic.

Well, it's nice that you're doing what you can for him.

Thank you.

She tells me about her rescue dog, Sammy. We share a distaste for people who abandon dogs.

She gets paged over the intercom. Her name is Chantel. She says it was nice meeting me and good luck.

***

After my father went to prison, my mother feared I would become like him, tried to erase all influence he may have had on me. She went through my room while I was at school and threw away anything he'd given me, forbade any hobbies he'd encouraged. No more Boy Scouts, no more guitar lessons, no more video games. I had a tutor every day after school to help me skip a grade, football practice, faith circle, Sunday shifts at my uncle's store, religious and academic camps every summer. I never made friends at those things.

My grandparents sent checks on my birthday. My mother would take them because I hadn't earned them yet. I tried telling my relatives what it was like at home. They told me I was too angry and should listen to my mother.

***

I leave the door open while I carry groceries to the kitchen. I always do. Grover has never tried to run away before. I turn when I hear the screen door smack. He's gone.

I drive around the neighborhood. Eventually I find him playing with a small boy. I get out and say hi, tell him it's my dog. He asks his name. I say Grover.

I go to Grover, and he growls at me. I ask the boy to put the leash on him. Once he does, I grab the leash and pull. Grover struggles.

The mother comes to the door. She says it looks like he doesn't want to go home.

Yeah, I say. He's got a stubborn streak.

Has he been to obedience school?

You're hurting him, says the boy.

He's never disobeyed before. Maybe your son smells good.

She tells her son to come over by her. As I pull Grover to the car, she stares at me with judgment.

***

We had a dog when I was a child, a lab named Marty. One day, the water heater guy left the gate open, and Marty ran away. Mom refused to let us go look for him. Dogs know where they live, she said. He'll come home eventually. But he didn't.

***

I call Elise, the only friend from school who still texts sometimes. She lives in Palo Alto now. I tell her what happened with Stephanie, with Grover, with my mom. She says she's sorry I'm having such a bad month.

I'm not sure what to do.

Maybe this is a sign. There's nothing keeping you there anymore. You always wanted to live in a big city.

It's true. I used to talk about it all the time. I wanted to disappear in a sea of people. Vanish.

Become one of many. Just like everyone else. Normal.

But what would I do about Grover? And I don't think I could get a job that would pay me enough to live in a city.

It was just a thought. Trying to cheer you up.

***

I always thought that when Steph finished school, we would move together. I could pursue music while she worked at a bigger University.

My family thought that when I finished school, I would move back home and take over my uncle's business. My sister and his two sons were in the military. That wasn't an option for me because of my diagnosis. I rarely think about the certainty that I'll one day be unable to walk. I sometimes think I have to find someone before that happens or I'll be alone forever.

I couldn't pay for school, so I got a full-time job. Eventually I stopped classes. Now I'm here and this is what I do. I don't want to move to the city by myself. I don't want to go back home. The store closed and my uncle lives in a retirement castle. He calls me big shot for thinking I'm too good for him. I could have spent my life running a Christian bookstore. But what kind of life would that be.

***

It's hard not to resent Grover. He is no longer affectionate. He treats the living room like it's his territory, barks incessantly when I go in there, runs away when I get near him. Sometimes I call him names. Sometimes I shut the door while he's outside so he has to stay out there all day. I snap at him when he won't eat the treat with his heart supplement in it. I make him wait all day to eat so he'll be so hungry that he has to be good and eat from my hand. I don't like that I do this. I want to love him. But in his eyes, I only see fear and hatred.

***

I explain to the woman that she has to submit proof of her job applications every week. She says what if there's no jobs to apply to. What if it's a holiday. She's going to be at a cabin for a week with her family and there won't be any Internet.

I tell her she won't receive her unemployment for that week if she's unable to apply to jobs or go to interviews.

But that's not fair, she says. This was arranged back when she had a job. She was using her PTO.

Then you can use the PTO money you got when you were laid off, I say.

How dare you, she says. She tells me about her son's insulin and her daughter's private school that won't let her do a payment plan.

Those are the rules. You don't get special treatment just because you think you deserve it.

That's probably why you got fired.

She calls me names and demands to speak to my supervisor. I tell her he isn't there because he isn't. She leaves. I've never spoken to someone like that before. It doesn't feel good.

***

Stephanie has decided it's been long enough with no contact and that she would like her dad's Blu-Ray player back. Grover runs to her and shows her the kind of affection he used to show me.

When I approach to hand her the player, he runs away. She looks at my face.

You don't look good.

Thanks, I say sarcastically.

Are you okay?

What do you care?

I'm just worried about you.

You left me when I was at my lowest. I'll take care of it from here thanks.

She leaves without a word.

I stomp over to Grover. I refuse to let him ignore me after licking her. I kneel in front of him. I call his name. He looks at me with mistrust. I put out my hand. I don't touch him, just leave the hand there for him to sniff. It's my left hand, not the one he bit. That one still hurts.

He takes a step toward me. He sniffs the hand. For a second, I think he may lick it.

He bites at my hand. I pull it away just in time. I hit him in the face.

He barks and lunges at me. I reel back, fall on my ass. He scratches my face. I roll over and stand up. I go to the bathroom and see myself. There are large scratch marks diagonal down my face. I look horrific. Grover watches from the other room. He barks until I leave the house.

***

In seventh grade, my mom said she would take me and three friends to Worlds of Fun the week after school got out. I invited three guys who I thought were cool. They said yes. I was excited. I thought if they spent time with me at an amusement park, we would become friends.

The morning we were meant to go, my mom said we weren't going. She had gotten my report card, and I'd gotten an S+ in Social Studies instead of a C. I hadn't earned the trip.

I pleaded with her. It wasn't fair. She'd never said that was part of the deal. She could have said something before. Now I had to tell the guys we weren't going after I'd promised. She was making me a liar.

She told me I was like my father, always trying to bend the rules. You don't get things if you don't deserve them.

I screamed at her. I told her she was a bad mother. I used the word bitch.

Three days later, two men came and handcuffed me. They took me to a facility. I had to stay there for the entire summer, never making eye contact with anyone but the instructors. Broken rules meant a night in the back house. When I got back, I refused to talk to my mother for a month, until she threatened to send me back. I later learned she couldn't afford to send me back. The money my grandparents had invested for my college was gone. No one in our family ever mentioned my time at the reform academy. We pretended it never happened.

***

Cort tells me he's had complaints about my being rude to people. I ask if it's that woman, but he won't say. I tell him I'm sorry.

I see Beatriz in the break room. I ask what she's doing this weekend. She says she needs to go to the pet store because she's getting a new cat. I say I might need to do the same thing.

Well, I don't know when I'm going to go, she says.

Yeah, me neither. Sucks when the weekend gets filled up with errands.

Mm-hmm, she says.

***

I go to Homien Chinese for Fred and Dallas's engagement party. Everyone stares. The hosts get up and rush to the door as I hang up my jacket.

We weren't expecting you to come. Stephanie's going to be here.

She has class tonight. And we've seen each other since. It's fine.

We just didn't think you'd come.

You invited me. I've had this on the books for like two months.

Yeah, that was when you were with Steph.

I don't say anything.

Why would you want to come anyway? We aren't your friends.

I look over everyone there. They avert their eyes. I leave.

***

When I was in school, kids called me Ham. One day, a pretzel fell on the floor, and I picked it up and ate it. Everyone thought it was funny, so the next day, I did it again. They tried to see what I wouldn't eat off the floor – things chewed up and spit out, applesauce spread on the ground, a Twinkie that had been stepped on. I loved the attention. Eventually I realized they were laughing at me because I was overweight. I avoided attention after that.

***

Grover dug his way under the fence and escaped.

I drive around the neighborhood for hours, but can't find him. I ask the neighbors if they've seen him. I don't really know them. They say they'll let me know if they spot him. I make fliers and hang them up like a kid.

His tags have the vet's number on them because someone told me it discourages people from trying to kidnap pets for ransom. I call Dr. Light and ask if they've heard anything. They say no.

***

I go to the pet store to post my fliers. Inside, I see Beatriz.

Hey. Did you find your cat stuff?

She stares at me with wide eyes. Her breathing is heavy.

Why are you here?

Grover ran away. I'm giving out these fliers. Here. If you see him, call me. It's got my number on there.

Right, she says. She takes it. I have to go, she says.

She walks out of the store without buying anything. I don't know what has changed. She looked afraid of me.

***

I ask Elise if our friends from school hated me. It isn't a question out of nowhere. People seem to avoid me now, and I wonder if they've always felt that way. Our friends in school never invited me to anything; they'd invite her, and she'd tell me when there was a party or something. I realize now that they may not have wanted me around.

Nobody hated you, she says. They just didn't think about you.

If people had a problem with me, why didn't anyone say so?

They never told me not to invite you. They just felt…

I wait for her to say something.

Maybe you shouldn't expect people to like you or want to hang out with you or date you.

I shouldn't expect people to like me?

Why don't you just leave them alone?

I don't know what to say to this, so I say nothing. She says she has to go and hangs up.

Maybe she's right. I should keep to myself. I look in the mirror, giant scratches down my face. No one would want this person around.

***

I remember being happy with Stephanie. We had fun together. But now I'm not sure if what I remember is real. Maybe she was always disappointed. Maybe I've never been happy. Maybe Grover is better off without me. Maybe he feared me all along.

***

A police officer comes to my door. I think he's there because he found Grover. He tells me Beatriz has filed for a protective order. I tell him I don't understand. I work with Beatriz. She has no reason to be afraid of me.

He says that's not his responsibility. He hands me the filing and tells me I can dispute it in court.

Until then, he recommends I stay away from her. I say I can't help it if we run into each other.

Don't do that, he says.

***

I get a call from the library. They're canceling my show this Saturday, and all future Saturdays.

They no longer wish to continue with this type of programming. Parents have complained that my behavior is inappropriate. They don't think this is the right place for me. I don't argue.

***

YOUR MOTHER HAS DIED.

WE FIND IT UNSPEAKABLE THAT YOU WOULD NOT BE THERE FOR HER IN HER LAST MOMENTS.

YOU HAVE NEVER BEEN A CARING SON.

YOUR MOTHER MADE IT CLEAR THAT SHE ONLY WANTED THOSE WHO HAVE BEEN SAVED TO ATTEND HER FUNERAL. SINCE YOU HAVE ABANDONED YOUR FAITH AND YOUR FAMILY, WE ASK THAT YOU RESPECT YOUR MOTHER'S WISHES AND NOT COME.

***

I rescued Grover when he was a puppy. He was tied to a chain-link fence behind the old bowling alley. I was riding my bike and heard him yelping. He was so tiny and thin. He couldn't use his front right paw. He licked my hand. I took him to the vet. I brought him home. I wasn't supposed to have a dog, so I moved. He needed someone to take care of him.

***

Cort calls me into his office. He asks why I'm here. What do you mean, I ask.

I guess I assumed you wouldn't come back.

Why?

You can't be here while Beatriz is here. She's hiding in the bathroom.

I don't understand what Beatriz thinks happened. Does she think I followed her to the pet store? I just happened to be there.

Your legal issues are not my business, but I can't have you threatening your coworkers. We were already considering letting you go after you yelled at applicants.

I didn't yell at anyone.

Don't make this worse. I don't want to have to call the police.

I sit for a moment, unsure of what to say.

I guess if anyone knows how to file for unemployment, it's me.

He looks disgusted that I would joke at a time like this. I leave without another word to anyone.

***

I ask the kids at the front counter about Grover. They look at each other and say nothing.

Well?

They don't speak or move.

HAVE YOU HEARD ANYTHING OR NOT?

No one has seen your dog, says Dr. Light, behind me. We'll tell you if we do.

I open my mouth to speak, but he interrupts me.

I think you should go, he says.

***

At the grocery store, I see Chantel. I ask how Sammy is doing. She looks terrified.

How do you…

Sorry. Do you remember me? We talked about our dogs the other week. That's how I knew his name. I was just wondering if his surgery went okay.

She stammers, turns, walks away. A manager approaches me in the frozen aisle. He asks me to leave. I don't ask why. I just go.

***

No one answers when I bang on the door. I'm sure she's in there, so I bang harder. I hear a car door slam behind me. I turn and see Stephanie.

What are you doing here?

Did you take my dog?

What?

Someone took Grover. Was it you?

You can't keep harassing me. We broke up a long time ago. Leave me alone.

If you have my dog, I'm going to find out.

I don't have your dog. If you don't leave, I'm going to call the cops.

I stare in her eyes, try to gauge whether she's lying. I know she liked Grover, that she'd love to take him from me. But I don't think she's lying. I think she's afraid.

***

Dr. Light exits his office, locks up, walks to his car. It's late, few cars on the road, easy to follow him.

I park two houses down and across the street. I watch him go inside. A few minutes later, he walks out his front door, holding a leash.

He walks Grover down the block. I don't get out of the car. Grover leaps and wags his tail. He looks happy without me.

***

The same police officer comes to the door. I think it's about the protective order. He asks me what I was doing the night before.

I was looking for my lost dog.

He asks if I saw Stephanie.

I tell him I asked her if she'd seen my dog. I worry she's also asking the police for protection.

He asks if I heard what happened. I haven't.

Stephanie was murdered last night.

He asks where I was, wants exact times and places. I say I was driving around looking for my dog. He says they'd like to ask me some more questions if I'll go with him. I say not unless I'm under arrest. He says I'm not, but they may have more questions, so I should tell them if I plan to leave the area. It's clear he thinks I murdered Stephanie. Everyone will agree with him.

***

When my sister was killed, my mother didn't tell me until after the service. She described it in an email, part of a normal update on her life. No one else reached out to me. I sat on the floor and cried. Grover raced over to me, whining and putting his nose under my arm for pets. He didn't tell me what I should have done differently, how it was my fault things were the way they were, whether or not I had a right to feel how I felt. He was just there for me. I pet him and we were sad together. His love was the only true love I'd ever felt. And then it went away.

***

I call Elise. Her girlfriend answers the phone.

Stop calling her, she says.

Why? She's my friend.

She doesn't want to talk to you, you psycho.

I just talked to her.

Quit bothering us or we'll contact the police.

I hang up the phone.

***

When Grover was still a puppy, I built a doghouse in the backyard. I thought he could stay out there while I was at work when the weather was nice. That way he wouldn't poop in the house and he could play in the sun. I underestimated how big he would get, and the opening was too small. I'd already given the tools back to Cort, so it just sat in the yard, unused.

Looking at it now, I decide to fix it. When Grover comes home, a new house will be his present.

I go to the hardware store. I pick up a hammer, carry it to the aisle where there are tubs of nails, contemplate what size to buy.

A young boy approaches. It's the boy who played with Grover. He asks where my dog is.

I don't know.

Yeah you do.

He hangs on the shelf like it's the monkey bars.

Don't do that, I say.

He reaches one hand up and into a tub of nails on a high shelf, digs around in it.

Stop it, I say.

He loses his grip, falls to the floor. The tub of nails clatters and spills all over.

WHAT DID I SAY? I TOLD YOU NOT TO MESS WITH THOSE.

I see people standing at the end of the aisle, watching me yell at this child while holding a hammer. He scoots to his mother, who shelters him.

In the parking lot, more people stare at me. They point, scream, call me a monster. I run down the block, try to evade them, but they're everywhere. I can't get away.

***

YOU ARE EVIL.

THEIR FEAR IS JUST.

THEY SENSE YOUR WICKEDNESS.

YOU WILL BE PUNISHED.

EVERY DAY YOU LIVE IS VIOLENCE.

DEMON.

***

Dr. Light pulls into his driveway, enters his house. I run to the door before it swings shut. I step inside.

Grover is in the living room.

Hey, boy. It's me.

He barks.

Dr. Light returns from the next room. He stares at me in terror.

What do you want?

What do you think I want? You kidnapped my dog.

I'm protecting him from you.

He cowers in fear. Grover barks louder and louder. It sinks into my brain.

So many people cannot be wrong. There is no choice but to accept.

I look down and see the hammer in my hand.

Run, boy, he says.

I raise the hammer above my head, and the monster within me is unleashed.

Gregg Maxwell Parker is the author of five books, including the novel "The Last Thing You See." You can find more of his work at GreggMaxwellParker.com and AsSeenInJapan.com. He lives in Tokyo.