It wasn’t the first time this had happened; I knew now. I had a job once — it wasn’t a prestigious one, just one that got me out of the house and a bit of money in my pocket. On some days, when I worked late, I would come home and my pet would be sitting in the corner, shivering It was Mack, then — a wiry-haired chihuahua mix, and my father would be sleeping on the couch. I asked him about it then, but he always brushed it off.

I came home one day, and my father told me that he got out of the gate. Though, that was also the day that the flower bed had been torn up. I didn’t put two and two together until years later, and by then I was already practically a NEET.

My fist still throbs with the feeling of the impact. He deserved it, yet still, my heart still felt as if it were being wrenched from my chest. I hobbled down the road. My brother didn’t live too far away. Perhaps I’ll see if he could stomach housing me for a day or two.

Along the way, I feel something brush against my leg. Shadow had descended from her usual rooftops and decided to join in on my misery. She follows me for a block or two before disappearing into her usual hiding places within the shade of the trees and bushes of other people’s yards. I felt a bit uplifted, as she left. As if I weren’t truly alone. To emphasize that point, Clio licked my cheek and I carried on.

For half an hour I walk the four or five blocks to my brother’s house. Countless doors lay between my parent’s house, and his. Doors that, come a little under five years, would burst open and claim the lives of every single person that lived within the surrounding homes. Should I care? I’ve never been particularly treated well by them. Whenever I began to gain weight, I began hearing jeers and taunts from passing cars. Or children snickering at me as I walked by. All of that just drove me further and further into the little hole I dug out inside my room. Even now, I feel ashamed of walking around — thought no one was here to see, as if I were committing a great sin by existing around others.

If all of them were to die, would that be so bad? No, no no no. Quiet those evil thoughts, I tell myself. It’s not their fault that I was so disgusting, it was my own. I was the one who let others dictate my life through their jeers and taunts, I was the one who couldn’t stop indulging in the baser pleasures of modernity; video games, and prepackaged dinners. Laziness. All of it was the fault of no one else but me. It was my duty to close these doors. I was chosen for a reason, I tell myself. Perhaps to die. Perhaps to become a hero. Whatever that reason was, I would embrace it and delve again and again and again until I carve out a place for humanity to exist in the inevitable coming disaster.

I stop outside the gate to the yard around my brother’s house and hold my breath. Maybe I should just find a tree to sleep under? Perhaps I should walk across town to the one pet-friendly hotel? Unease that I haven’t felt for years feels me. I hadn’t seen my brother in a year and a half, when he told me that, if I didn’t change, he wouldn’t want to see me ever again.

The gate squeaks open as I flip the latch and push past it. Grass grew through the cracks between the red bricks that lined that path. The movement sensors flip the light on as I near the large red door of his two-story house. I knock. A dog’s shrill bark resounds in the space beyond the door, and movement from the second floor let me know that my presence was known.

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I weigh my options as the sounds of footsteps draw nearer. Leaving now was one of them. Perhaps, my brother wouldn’t come out to look up and down the street? No, he was a cautious person. He most definitely would, and with a gun, no doubt. Staying was the safest bet, so I stood my ground, and leaned on the staff all the harder as I waited.

“Who is it?” My brother’s voice called from behind the door.

“Lawrence,” I respond.

He sighs and the door cracks open. My brother stands there with a hand on his hip, and a tired look in his gray eyes.

“I told you that I didn’t want to see you again. What the fuck are you doing here at one in the morning?”

“I need a place to stay.” I say, “Left mom and dad’s place.”

“So you came here? Sleep by the river or something. I don’t care. We’re not family anymore, Lawrence.”

“Mark? Who is it?” His wife’s voice calls from the stairwell just beyond.

“Just some bum wanting a handout.” He turns his attention back to me, “Leave, bum.”

“Mark, pl—” The door slams shut, and clicks locked.

“Leave before I call the cops.” He calls through the door.

I stay there for a moment, before turning around and leaving the yard. I walk a bit out of view of the house. I silently curse as I move to sit within the shade of a large oak tree whose branches stretched over the sidewalk like an awning. I place Clio on the sidewalk beside me, as hot, ugly tears stream down my face. Why did it have to be so hard to live? It’s not like I was a drug addict, or a criminal or anything. Tears streamed down my face, and for a good ten or so minutes, sorrow wracks my heart. Fuck this place. Fuck this family. Fuck them all.

The motel it is, I tell myself after finally quelling the debilitating sadness. My feet wobble, as I push myself back up and begin the long walk across town to the only motel that I knew accepted pets. My eyes are peeled to the ground as I hobble across the town. Even still, I feel the burning gaze of the people within the scant cars that rushed through town. A few people sleep in the parking lots near. Wasn’t that basically where I was in my life? I would make sure that I didn’t end up like that, however. There was a way for me to earn money, after all.

Dawn begins to climb as I finally get to the motel. The Sunshine Motel? An apt name. Clio followed me, shivering with every car that passed. My leg feels as if it were going to fall off at any moment. How tight the swelling was, and how much pain it caused me to just walk. Every so often I would have to stop and sit, and cast lesser heal on myself to continue to walk. I would make good progress for the time it took for the pain to start up again. Only to repeat the process over and over again.

I walk up to the front desk and hold the door open for Clio to come in after me. A woman is sitting there, playing a game loudly on her phone. I clear my throat, and she rolls her eyes as she turns to look at me.

“How many nights?” She asks.

“At least a month,” I answer.

“We require payment by the day, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“No drugs in your room; if you’re caught with any illicit drugs you will be forcibly removed, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Smoking?”

“No.”

“Pets?”

“Yes. A small dog and a cat.”

“It’ll be 15 more a night for them, okay?” Her fingers blur as they dash over the keys on the computer in front of her.

“Okay.”

She reaches into a drawer in the desk and hands me a card key.

“Room 212 is your room. 125 a night.”

I reach for the card, and she pulls it back across the counter.

“Payment first.”

I fish out the money from my pocket and put it on the table. She runs it through the tests before sliding the key over to it.

“Enjoy your stay at the Sunshine Motel.” She forces a smile on her face that quickly fades as she goes back to playing the game on her phone.