Silver gleamed in my eyes as I looked at the Dragon’s-Eye amulet. Untattered, it still shone as if it were polished not a few moments before. Not even Grant's fingers, wet from his drink, left anything behind as he handed it to me.

“Figured you’d want it back,” he said. “Now I really need to start studying.” Closing the door gently behind him, he escaped into his room.

Holding the amulet in my hand, it was cool to the touch, and I reached out in my mind, “... Dragon?” Nothing. I felt absolutely nothing. “It really must have been a dream.”

I sat back on the couch, and, for once, had no inclination to waste my time. Watching television felt like a bore. Even gaming, something I’ve always loved in the past, seemed completely uninteresting to me.

Maybe I was just depressed? I’d heard of that happening to people who have profound hallucinations.

Over and over I rolled the amulet in my hands; I even considered trying to find some more drugs hidden in the fridge. But, knowing Grant, after I ended up missing, he threw anything else we had away. And it didn’t seem like a smart idea to go on some acid induced binge again.

It’s a miracle I survived the first time.

I set the amulet down, and said pleadingly, “Dragon, if you can hear me, give me a sign. Anything to let me know you’re there. Otherwise… I think I need to sell you to try and make rent. Please, come on.” Then, like an answer from the heavens, the coffee table began to smoke. I quickly picked the Dragon’s-Eye up. “Dragon!”

No response.

Looking down, I saw my still lit cigarette burning the wood black, a small stream of smoke drifting from the hole. I sighed, lifting the cigarette to my mouth and taking a drag into lungs.

Looking back at the amulet, I whispered, “It was sort of nice having a ride along. But, this is real life—not fantasy. Dragon’s don’t just grant powers to humans like in fiction. We humans need to go out and earn that power for ourselves. Become something greater than themselves. If my drug-addled brain was trying to teach me something through you, then it was this: Don’t waste your life, Ike.”

I could have sworn I felt a nod of approval from the amulet, and, not wishing to be away from it, I put it in my pocket, tapping my cigarette out on an ashtray, and walking towards the door.

***

I pulled on the door to Ruby’s pawn shop, but, unlike earlier, it didn’t budge. Unperturbed, I pulled harder—so hard that my fingers slipped and I almost fell into dirty alley water.

“Must be closed,” I said to nobody in particular. Tapping the amulet in my pocket, I added, “Guess you can stay with me a little longer.”

“Again and again,” a familiar voice said from behind.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I replied, turning. “You two. Again?”

“Pleasant surprise is all,” the skinny thief said, adjusting his dirty hood. “And I’d think you’d learn to look in the dark corners before coming down any alleyways. Or perhaps never come down one at all. No matter, your ill luck is my gain. I was here for that tranny bitch, but you’ll do.”

As he came into sight, I could see his broken wrist was bandaged and casted.

“That hurt?” I said, pointing towards it. Looking around, I saw nobody else. “Where’s your friend?”

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“Difference of opinions,” he replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a very old looking gun.

I raised my hands in the air, dropping my lit cigarette. “Wait—just wait.” Fear made it hard to breathe as I stammered. “I’ll-give-you-anything. No games—no shit talking. Here—” I reached in my pocket, feeling my wallet. Pulling it out, I threw it to the floor. “There ya’ go, everything I have.”

“Liar!” the man replied, circling me so my back was towards a dead-end. “I can see something else in your pocket.”

Reaching in, I felt the cold, intricate smoothness of the amulet against my finger tips. Next to it, the knife I’d taken earlier. “Here.” I pulled the knife out and threw it next to the wallet. “It’s yours anyways. Now that's it. Just let me go.”

The thief scratched the back of his own head with the barrel of the gun. “Alright, alright." He lowered the piece to the ground. “You can go.” He waved me on, using the gun to point the way.

Slowly, I moved past him, seeing the beckoning street ahead.

My freedom.

Time slowed—just as it’d done in the past. Sensing danger, I turned to see the man holding the gun aimed straight towards me, the tip of it exploding as the bullet left the chamber. As soon as I realized what it was, my body reacted, and I dodged the bullet as it streaked next to my head.

“What the fuck—'' the thief said, shooting again, and again. Each time, my body moved of its own accord, and I quickly closed the distance between us. He shot again, and this time, I rolled to the ground, grasping the knife I’d dropped earlier in my hand. Like a skilled combat veteran, my fingers nimbly disabled the lock, flipping the blade into place as the tip found the man’s throat in a smooth sort of dance. He didn’t even call out as my blade slit into his skin.

The gun clattered to the floor and hot blood struck my face. It was warm, and it smelled metallic. I stepped back, wiping it off with the back of my sleeve. The man staggered a few steps back from me, fear so palible in the air that I could cut it with the very knife I held. Eventually, he collapsed, and pulled himself awkwardly onward. I walked forward to stab him again, but a shrill shriek from the street stopped me.

The thief looked up at me from his knees, holding the open wound in his neck awkwardly, but the blood was flowing too quickly.

He was already dead; he just didn't know it yet.

I walked by him as I heard the murmur of the crowd gather at the alleyways entrance. Faintly, I could hear the screams of a woman off in the distance as bystanders circled her. “My baby! My baby!” she cried.

The thief still struggled to breathe, and that filled me with an immense satisfaction. As the murmurs became louder, I turned away, running for a blocked off portion of the fence. Hurriedly, I threw myself onto and over it, climbing as best I could, ripping my shirt in a few places as I did. Eventually, I vaulted over, landing on the other side.

I pocketed the knife as I left the alleyway, turning towards home and trying not to act like a man who’d just committed a murder. As I turned the corner, I heard sirens off in the distance.

***

I spoke not a word to Grant as he brought me food, leaving it in front of me and quickly going back to his room. He always could sense when something was wrong, and he knew better than to pry… sometimes.

I simply stared at the TV, watching the nightly news. It was abuzz about a murder in an alleyway nearby. A gunman, Quinn Poverly, had shot from an alleyway into a crowded street. The police were currently looking for a suspect: Male, large build, tall, with long-straight blond hair. I touched my own short curly-blond hair and breathed a sigh of relief. But, as I did, the reporter said what I feared the most.

“There was a single victim. We are not releasing the name, due to privacy, but we can confirm that the victim was ten years old. They are currently in critical—” I turned the TV off, setting the controller down as gently as I could.

“It’s my fault,” I whispered, squeezing the Dragon’s-Eye amulet with all my strength. “It should have been me. It should have been me… say something. I know you’re real. I know this is real… SAY SOMETHING!” I threw the amulet across the room, hitting the opposing wall. It left a break in the drywall as it fell to the carpet below.

Holding my own head with both hands, I swayed back and forth. Was this how comic book heroes felt when they failed? When they couldn’t save someone?

“No…” I thought. “This is real. If I was faster, then none of this would have happened. If I was braver, then none of this would have happened… If I stopped him the first two times, then none of this would have happened.”