Wind whistled through the holes in the chain link fence outside Ernestville Elementary School. The few saplings planted inside the school gates had golden leaves that were being ripped away by the wind. Sara huddled against the fence with her hands in the pockets of her jacket.

The bell should ring any minute, she thought. While she was waiting to bring Darcy home from school, she watched the sky become darker and saw clouds swirl in as the wind grew more powerful.
Bong. Bong. Bong.

The children flooded out from the front doors of the school in a joyful, screaming mess like seagulls stealing French fries in summer. Sara spotted Darcy on the outer edge of the crowd, hopping along with her jacket unzipped and her kangaroo backpack in tow. Her pigtails bounced around while she headed for the gate with a large smile on her face.

“Hey, Little Roo,” Sara chimed, “how was school today?”

“Great! We learned how to add two digit numbers today, so I can make big numbers now!”

“Really? That’s wonderful, Roo. What else did you do?”

“I drew a picture of horses! Look! The big one is you and the little one is me!” Darcy pulled out a piece of pink construction paper from her backpack with two brown smudges surrounded by a plethora of rainbow scribbles. Sara smiled.

“It’s so pretty, Roo. You’re a wonderful artist. Now, it’s getting windy so let’s zip up your jacket and head home.”

Sara bent on one knee to put the drawing into the kangaroo bag and tried to zip Darcy’s jacket, but she was hopping from foot to foot turning to search for her classmates.
“Hold still, Darcy. You’ll be cold if your jacket isn’t zipped.” The wind blew some of Sara’s in her eyes. She shook her head a little and noticed a figure leaning against the fence partway down the street. It was a boy not too much older than her. He was wearing a dark sweatshirt with a hood covering his head. Sara could see him watching her. Something about him made her uneasy, but she couldn’t think of what it was. Then she spotted the red bandana on his arm.

Fear shot through her. Sara jerked her eyes away to finish zipping Darcy’s jacket. She took her sister’s hand and started walking along the ancient sidewalk towards home. A light drizzle began to fall and covered the ground with hundreds of dark speckles.

Darcy jumped over the crevices in the sidewalk as they walked. Maybe he didn’t follow us... Sara hoped the scarlet cloth on the boy’s arm was only a part of his hoodie and not what she suspected it to be. Bandanas were only worn by gang members in Ernestville. Gangs would do almost anything to cause fear and gain money, including terrorizing grade-schoolers and doing terrible things to high school girls...

Sara listened carefully for footsteps behind them. To her dismay, she heard the clunk of boots hitting pavement not too far back. It could be anyone walking behind us. Not necessarily the gang member... If he really is one... Sara decided to risk a glance over her shoulder. She turned her head to the left and looked back, then jerked to face forward again. Sweatshirt boy was following them, and he was undoubtedly wearing a red bandana on his arm.

Sara looked around. There were barbed-wire fences in front of the houses on both sides of the street. She started to panic. She knew that there was a narrow alley down the street just beyond the brown house with peeling paint. I need to keep Darcy calm. And keep her safe.

“Roo? How would you like to play a little game?”

“Yay! A game!” Darcy squeaked, bouncing a little on her toes.

“If you want to play the game you need to be very quiet,” Sara whispered.

“Okay.”

“There’s a magic kangaroo waiting for us up ahead and we need to catch him. If you make noise, you’ll scare him away, okay?” Darcy enthusiastically nodded her head.

“I’ll lead you to where he’s going once we turn to the left up ahead, okay?” Sara received another vigorous nod from her sister that shook the pigtails on her head. Sara picked up her pace a little and heard the boots speed up their rhythm.

“Ready, set, go!”

Sara pulled Darcy to the left and they ran down the alley. The light drizzle from before had become heavier and was making the ground slick. She hoped sweatshirt boy would slip trying to turn corners and follow them. Sure enough, she heard a skid and a bump before the boots continued pursuit.

“Hey, girls! Slow down a bit so we can talk!” Sara gripped Darcy’s hand and turned to the right onto another street. They sprinted to the other side and cut through a yard filled with weathered Christmas decorations. One more street to go! They hurdled past fence after fence and into another alley with brick walls covered in graffiti.

They splashed through puddles and crossed a street to run up some porch steps. Sara pulled out a key and swiftly unlocked the door to pull Darcy inside. She locked it behind her and, breathing heavily, peered through the window shades. No sign of sweatshirt boy.

“Yay! We caught the kangaroo!” Darcy was jumping around the tile floor in the next room. Sara checked the street once more before leaving the hallway to enter the kitchen and take a look around. Darcy’s boots were squeaking on the floor as she bounced around the table. No one else was home. Not that anyone was ever home. She placed her backpack on the table and took two books out.

“I have some new books for you, Little Roo.”

“Are they about kangaroos?”

“Of course.” Sara handed the two colorful books to Darcy who gazed at the covers with a smile wider than the river outside of town.

“I’m going out for a little, so go up to your room and read these, alright? Do you remember what to do while I’m gone?”

“Yes. Stay away from windows, don’t answer the phone, and never open the door.” Darcy said it like she was reciting items on a grocery list.

“Okay, I’ll be back later.” Sara watched Darcy skip up the wooden staircase with her new books. That will keep her occupied. At least I know she’ll be safe upstairs. Sara checked that all the doors were locked before putting her hood up to go outside.
Rain was steadily falling to the ground, but Sara had never minded the rain. She left the house heading north towards the bridge. Heavy rain never kept her, Jack, or Henley away from their special meeting place. The river only flooded after several days of rain. There were rocky outcrops they could sit under to stay dry, and Sara thought there would be a chance to make amends with Jack after their quarrel in the cafeteria.

She hiked up the road that led out of town, kicking rocks as she went. Suddenly, she heard a growl. A low, deep rumble from some vicious presence. Her head shot to the left.
It was a dog.
A Doberman.

A big, powerful demon with a glare that rooted Sara’s feet to the ground. Her heart pounding, Sara slowly stepped away from the animal and put her hands in front of her for protection. One of her sneakers splashed into a puddle and the dog barked. A loud noise that echoed off the houses and alleyways. In a flurry of panic, she ran.

Claws scraped the ground and thundered after her through the back streets. Turning left, right, left again... Sara’s mind was a blur. She had no idea where she was anymore. All the houses and alleys were the same: brick walls, peeling paint on porches, and barbed wire fences. She needed to climb a fence to get away. Any fence.

Not a dog, not a dog, not a dog... Terrified, Sara sprinted down the center of the street, avoiding pot holes filled with water. She slipped and hit her elbow on the pavement, but leapt up and continued to run. The dog let out a yelp of excitement. It was enjoying the chase.

She turned a corner and launched herself at a fence across from a brick wall. The metal links cut into her hands as she hauled herself above the reach of the dog. The clumsy thing slid onto the ground before running to the fence. The Doberman slammed against it, shaking it and nearly throwing Sara to the ground. Oh dear God, she thought.

Rain streamed over the chain links. The blood from Sara’s cuts dripped off the fence to the ground. The dog whined at the scent of blood and rammed the fence again. Her hands slipped a little. One more good shake and she would fall...

“Clipper!”

The dog whimpered upon hearing its name. Clipper? Sara thought. I know a dog with that name! She swiveled her head to see the dog’s owner angrily fastening a leash to its collar. His shirt, soaked from the rain, was clinging to his broad shoulders and his blonde hair was darkened and dripping wet. He looked up so Sara could finally see his face.
It was Evan.

Sara gazed down from her perch to a familiar face. She would have climbed down from the fence to greet him if his dog wasn’t deciding which one of her limbs to tear off once she reached the ground. He smiled.

“Sorry about Clipper, Sara. I’ve been chasing him since the rain started,” Evan said. He was holding Clipper's collar tightly with both hands and looking at Sara like someone would look at a squirrel in a tree. Head tilted all the way back and eyes squinting from sunlight. Or, in this case, from the rain that was pounding the earth.

“Come down so we can get out of the rain,” Evan said.

“Not with that dog down there!” Sara shouted. She squeezed her eyes shut and noticed she was shaking. At first she thought it was because of the dog, but she realized that she was freezing. Her clothes were soaked from the rain and the wind was turning her into a popsicle. She turned to look at the Doberman.

“Do you promise you’ll hold onto him?” Sara asked.

“Yes. He’s not going anywhere.” Sara hesitated and listened to her teeth chatter.

“I promise he won’t hurt you, Sara.” The gentle way he said it convinced Sara to climb to the ground. Spots of blood stained the fence in every place she moved her hands, but they were washed away by the rainwater soon after she moved. She finally placed her feet on the cement and carefully eyed Clipper.

“Come on,” Evan said, “let’s go somewhere dry.”
¤ ¤ ¤

They trudged through town in the pouring rain to Evan’s house. Sara’s teeth never stopped chattering and Evan walked the entire way stooped over like Quasimodo to hold Clipper’s collar since Sara was so terrified of him. Now inside – with Clipper chained up in the yard – they were wrapped in towels drinking hot tea in the kitchen. Neither of them spoke. Sara’s jacket was hung up to dry and her hands were wrapped in soft, tan gauze to stop her cuts from bleeding.

Sara had forgotten how often she used to come to Evan’s house. They would sit in his room after school to study or to simply talk about anything. She used to feel comforted by the warm colors on the walls in each section of the house. Brown sugar, sunshine, dark raspberry, and wheat. Her house’s walls were cold greys and shades of white.

Last December, when Evan spoke to her for the first time, Sara thought that he was playing a prank on her, but he sat with her at lunch for a week to get to know her better. Jack had been angry about the newcomer joining their lonely lunch table.

“Why is a jock sitting at our table?” he had said. “What does he really want from us?”

Jack’s questions were answered by mid-January. Evan asked Sara to go on a date.

“Why do you want to go out with me?” she had asked. “Aren’t there plenty of girls practically waiting in line for you?”

“I guess you could say that, but all of them want to be with me for popularity. You don’t. And there’s something about you that’s special.” Evan had “justified” his reason for sitting with them, but Jack still hadn’t been satisfied. Despite his protests, Sara had agreed to go on the date with Evan.

After that, her and Evan became closer and were seen together all the time. Sara had felt safe with him. They would walk Darcy home from school together without worries of being followed, they strolled through town casually, and he would protect her from any loose dogs that crossed their path. After about a month, however, things began to change.

Evan asked Sara why she couldn’t be more adventurous: leave her house at night, break into a car, or face up to the dogs she was so afraid of.

“Stand up to your fears and do something courageous for once.” Evan had told her to be brave and to be her own protection against the world. But that wasn’t what Sara wanted.
She only wanted to feel safe.

Since Evan was the person who gave her a sense of protection and comfort, she felt compelled to do what he asked in order to keep him. So she wrote down all the fears she had and decided to pick one to overcome. She chose her fear of blood. What am I supposed to do? Sara had thought. Should she watch a fight at school? No, that wouldn’t be brave, it would be curious. She needed to do something drastic.

So on one Thursday afternoon when she was doing algebra homework at the kitchen table, Sara put down her pencil and walked up to the counter next to the sink. She reached over to the knife block and pulled out a short paring knife. The blade had lost its sheen and was dull from continuous use. She held the knife over her arm mid-way between her wrist and elbow. Then she squeezed her eyes shut and slid the knife over her skin.

The pain hadn’t been horrible. Her arm had stung a little, but she had been far more concerned with what she would see when she opened her eyes. Her heart was pounding so quickly she thought it would burst through her rib cage. Slowly, she peeked through her eyelashes at her arm. A dark blotch was spilling away from the knife.

Sara took a deep breath and opened her eyes all the way to see the glinting red stain smearing her arm. The knife made a dull clang as it hit the floor. The room was spinning around her, but she grabbed the sink and washed her arm frantically. She bandaged it and cleaned up the blood with shaking hands.
But she had been brave.

Sara had shown Evan the cut the next day and she had expected him to scold her for being stupid, but, to her surprise, he congratulated her instead.

“You conquered one of your fears! I’m proud of you.” His beautiful grin had made it worth it. She could keep Evan and her sense of protection now, but she knew one outrageous action wouldn’t be enough. She continued using the knife. She made tally marks and patterns on her arms to impress him with her newfound bravery.

Jack, on the other hand, was greatly disturbed when he caught a glimpse of Sara’s arms. They had been doing homework by the river on a particularly warm day in February. Sara had taken off her jacket and briefly forgot about what she was trying to conceal.

“What happened to you?” Jack had panicked and assumed Sara was attacked by a gang on the street. She thought that he would understand after she explained what the cuts and scars were for but the explanation only seemed to make him angry.

Jack was her closest friend who had known her for longer than anyone else. They shared all their secrets. He knew about her father’s alcoholism, her mother’s lost job, and her extreme fear of dogs. His unexpected reaction had caused her to stray away from him and become closer to Evan.

Another few weeks passed and Evan started pressuring Sara to be more daring, but this time she declined. Evan was no longer a comforting boyfriend who protected her. He was another danger to be avoided. It tore her apart to break up with him, but she knew it was necessary. The scars on her arms reminded her of that decision every day.

Now, sitting in Evan’s kitchen with bandages wrapping her hands and her scars in plain sight, Sara was strongly reminded of why she cut him loose.

“Do they hurt?” Evan asked. Sara realized she was staring at her bandages. She looked up at him. His eyes were not the warm color of seawater that she used to see. They were chips of ice.

“I should go.” Sara got to her feet, retrieved her jacket from the coat hanger, and put the towel in its place. She walked out the door without saying goodbye or answering his question.

Clipper was waiting for her outside. He was chained to a post in the yard, but stood as close to the gate as possible. Sara would need to walk directly in front of him to leave. This dog guarded the gate every time she had come to Evan’s house.

She used to call him Cerberus. If this dog really was Cerberus then I would be in the realm of the dead. I would have come here because I had died, Sara thought. In a way, part of Sara had died when she first came to Evan’s house. She relied too much on his protection, and her independence became almost non-existent.

Sara strutted down the walkway and squinted through the rain while she did her best to ignore Clipper’s crazed thrashing and howling. Trembling, she passed the dog and continued walking down the street. She never entered the gate again.

The rain stopped soon before Sara arrived at her house. It was about dinnertime and a chill was in the air, making her shiver. She rubbed her hands together for warmth and leapt up the porch steps. She took her tiny, silver house key from her pocket, but heard voices inside. Had someone broken in? Or were her parents home early?

She unlocked the door and went inside to see her father sitting at the kitchen table across from her mother. He was shaking the last bits of Corn Flakes into a bowl filled with milk. Sara stifled a sigh. I’ll need to buy more cereal for Darcy before Monday...

“Rick, you need to find a job. I don’t have the money to pay the rent this month. My paycheck will only cover half of it and we can’t be late again.” Sara’s mom was trying to convince her dad to work again. Sara frowned. Why bother? She hung her jacket on a hook in the kitchen.

“I work every day at the warehouse. I usually bring somethin’ home for bills, don’t I?” Her father’s speech was badly slurred. He was a tall, well-built man who used to be a respected businessman before they moved here. It was pathetic to see how alcohol affected him.
“No, you don’t. You bring pennies. You bring home your change from buying your precious drinks.” Sara’s mother pursed her lips and watched her husband slurp Corn Flakes from his bowl. Sara could see that an argument would be coming soon, so she took her book bag and retreated up the stairs to her room. Neither of her parents noticed her. They never did.
Sara trudged up each creaky step thinking about when her parents used to stay home on weekends and take her to movies in the next town. When there were no bills left unpaid. No empty refrigerators. No arguments at the kitchen table. No alcohol. That changed when her mother lost her job and had to be hired as a 7– day house maid.

Sara peeked into Darcy’s room and saw her drawing at her desk with an explosion of crayons all around her. Darcy was still a baby when everything started to change so she wouldn’t remember things being any different. She was so happy and oblivious to the family problems. Sara planned to keep it that way.

She turned the lamp on in her room and dropped her bag on the bed. I can go to the market tomorrow after work to pick up some groceries. She reached behind her desk and pulled out a purple drawstring pouch. She opened it to count the money inside then placed it on her dresser so she wouldn’t forget it tomorrow morning.

She had to leave at four in the morning so she would have time to ride her bike over to Sandmill and prepare for when the diner opened at five. Sara checked the clock on her wall: 7p.m. If she went to sleep now she could shower in the morning. Her clothes were mostly dry after her sprint through the rain earlier.

Her stomach growled. She placed her hand on her stomach, but thought about how little food there was in the house. I can eat at the diner tomorrow. I’ll just put out some cereal for Darcy before I leave. If there’s any left. Sara changed into pajamas before telling Darcy to go to bed.

“But I don’t want to go to sleep!” Darcy whined, bouncing on her bed.

“Come on, Roo. It’s time for bed.” When Darcy finally settled, Sara tucked her in under the covers.

“I’m going to work tomorrow morning, so I’ll leave some cereal on the table for you. I just need you to tell me again what you do when no one is home.”

“Stay away from windows, don’t answer the phone, and never open the door,” she yawned when she said the word “never” and settled onto her pillow.

“That’s right. Good night, Darcy.” Sara kissed her on the forehead, turned out the light, and went to her own room to get some sleep.

Sara put down a plate of bacon and eggs in front of a customer then moved along to clean up another table. Tips were good today. Customers that came out for breakfast on Saturdays were always in a good mood.

Sara had eaten breakfast when she arrived at the diner, but her stomach ached and she needed to take a rest. The clock above the kitchen entrance read 10:25 a.m. Her shift ended at eleven and more customers were still filing in. There were two other waitresses to serve tables, but Sara wouldn’t be able to collect tips if she took a break.

For the next thirty-five minutes, Sara carried trays and cleared tables. She had wrapped new gauze around her hands and put on a pair of light blue dress gloves that matched her waitress uniform. Even with layers of layers of fabric for protection, her cuts were sore and she could feel the jagged flaps of skin rub against her bandages each time she lifted an empty plate.

Finally relieved that her shift was over, Sara pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. Plates clinked together in the sinks and the entire room smelled like toast, ham, and scrambled eggs. Sara took off her gloves and winced when the gauze came off with them. Her cuts were bleeding again. She washed them thoroughly with soap and water before taking the first-aid kit down from its hook. She put clean gauze over the cuts and placed the first-aid kit back on the wall.

“What happened to your hands?” Mallory, one of the other waitresses, had walked in to see the gauze on Sara’s hands.

“Did you burn yourself on a hot frying pan?”

“No, I just got my hands cut up a little yesterday and needed to reapply some bandages.” Sara looked down at the soap bubbles in the sink. “I need to run to the market, so I’ll see you next week.” She smiled sweetly and walked toward the kitchen door.

“Okay. I guess I’ll see you then!”

Mallory was a nice person and Sara usually enjoyed having small conversations with her every once in a while, but she didn’t want to explain her encounter with Evan’s dog from the day before. She left the kitchen and navigated her way through the tables that were spread haphazardly throughout the diner.

Sara grabbed her jacket, punched out, and headed out the door to the bike rack. She was relieved to see her bike exactly where she left it, with the lock tethering it to the rack. She removed the lock and pedaled out of the parking lot.

The market was a few minutes down the road. Sara turned into the market lot and chained her bike before going inside. She walked through the aisles picking up what she knew was needed at home: milk, cereal, bread, and a special box of fruit snacks for Darcy.

She brought the items to a register with an elderly woman as the cashier and took her purple pouch out from her jacket pocket. She opened it and didn’t immediately comprehend what she saw. Or, rather, what she didn’t see.

The pouch was empty. Where did it go? Sara blinked in confusion and furrowed her eyebrows. The cashier made a small noise that made Sara look up.

“Your total is eleven dollars and eighty two cents,” said the woman.

Sara pulled her tips from earlier out of her pocket to pay and swiftly left the store with the groceries. What happened to the money in my bag? She had kept about a month’s worth of tips in there. She had more stored in her sock drawer, but it concerned her to know that she was missing about two hundred dollars. When could someone have stolen it? Sara always kept one eye on her jacket when she worked the diner. That couldn’t be when it was taken. I was in the kitchen for about two minutes and no new customers had arrived before I left...

Then Sara remembered something from last night. She thought she had heard a thump and some shuffling shortly after she went to bed, but had quickly fallen back asleep. Sara’s face flushed and she curled her hand into a fist around the pouch. Her father. He came into her room last night searching for more money to gamble with!

Stiff with anger, Sara mounted her bike and pedaled all the way home. She threw her bike against the side of the house and shoved the door open. Where was he? Both the living room and kitchen were empty. She checked the bathroom, her parents’ bedroom, and the office. He wasn’t home. The only rooms upstairs were Darcy’s and her own. He never went upstairs. Except when he’s stealing my money, Sara thought.

She dropped her grocery bag on the table and put the milk in the refrigerator. Sara tried to sit down but was too unsettled to stay still. She listened to a squeaking noise coming from upstairs. It sounded like Darcy was jumping up and down on her mattress.

Suddenly, Sara marched out of the house. She couldn’t stay there knowing she lived with a thief. She ran down the porch steps past her bike and up the street. She ran past Evan’s house and the fence she climbed yesterday. She had to be at the river. It was the only place she didn’t have to worry about dogs, gangs, blood, lies, arguments, thieves, money... anything. She could clear her mind and think.

She slid down the rocky soil underneath the traffic bridge and ran up the forest path. She closed her eyes as she ran, wanting to forget every horrible thing that ever happened to her when she slammed into something. She crashed onto the ground.

“Sara?”

Jack studied her while he rubbed his knee and righted himself. “Are you alright?”

In response, Sara burst into tears. Jack sat next to her and let her lean her head on his shoulder. Then she started to tell him about why she wasn’t alright. She told him about Evan, Clipper, her father, and the boy with the sweatshirt. She sobbed and apologized for their argument yesterday. She would have continued on forever if he hadn’t made her stand up and walk to the river with him.

Hiking up the trail calmed Sara down and she was able to speak properly once again.

“What am I supposed to do, Jack? I’m not sure I can do this anymore.”

Jack waited until they could hear the rippling water in the river before he answered her.

“You need to keep fighting, Sara. You’re tougher than you may realize. Every time you feel the devil push you down, you just need to get right back up,”

Sara slowly nodded. She needed Jack to tell her that because she couldn’t see it herself. They crested a hill until they overlooked the river and descended to the one place they would ever be able to feel safe.