He wasn't just a ghost anymore. He was needed. And in that tiny, shivering weight against his chest, Cedric found the first real reason he'd had in two years to keep breathing. It wasn't quite the bright, sunny hope his mother had talked about. It was grittier, fiercer. It was a desperate will to survive—not for himself, but for this tiny thing that was even more broken than he was.
The puppy whimpered again, a high-pitched, terrified sound.
'He's cold.' Cedric thought, his own body shivering. He tucked the small creature deeper inside his jacket, zipping it up as high as he could. The small, rapid heartbeat against his ribs was a strange comfort. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. It was the first warmth he'd felt that didn't come from anger or fever.
He sat there for a long time, just huddling under the concrete arch, the rain outside beginning to soften from a roar to a steady drum. He looked down at the tiny black head poking out of his jacket, its dark eyes watching him with a mixture of fear and, perhaps, gratitude.
"You're like me."
Cedric whispered, his voice still rusty.
"We both have no family."
He gently stroked the puppy's damp fur. It was matted and smelled of wet earth, but it was soft.
'I have to call him something.'
He thought for a moment. He tried to remember names from the books his mother used to read, but they all felt wrong.
He remembered the name of a dog from an old cartoon he'd seen once at the daycare. It was a good, simple name.
"Milo." he whispered. "I'll call you Milo."
The puppy seemed to like it, letting out a small, quiet sound and licking his chin. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, a real, tiny smile touched Cedric's lips. It felt strange, like a muscle he hadn't used in years.
He lost track of time. He just sat there, listening to Milo's heartbeat and the sound of the rain slowing down. He watched the light under the bridge shift from gray to a deep, dark blue.
'It's getting late.' a familiar panic started to creep in.
'I have to go back. If I'm late for dinner, they'll lock the door.'
He knew the rules at The Pines. Got late meant no dinner, and it meant questions he couldn't answer. And worse, it meant Dax would notice.
"I have to go." he whispered sadly.
Milo whimpered, as if understanding and tried to snuggle deeper.
'I can't take him with me.' Cedric realized immediately, his throat tightening.
'Dax would... he'd hurt him. He'd kill him. And Ms. Albright would throw him out. They'd take him away.'
A cold protectiveness settled in his chest.
'No. I won't let them. He's my secret.'
He looked around the cold, damp space. The soggy cardboard box was useless. He spotted an old, discarded tarp tangled in some weeds.
It was dirty, but it was dry underneath. He dragged it closer to the concrete wall, creating a small, sheltered pocket. Then, he took off his own jacket—the thin, oversized donation—and laid it down inside the shelter.
"This is better." he said softly while placing Milo on the jacket. The puppy immediately curled into a tight ball, shivering again.
"It's okay. I'll be back. Tomorrow, I promise."
Cedric promised, his voice trembling. He felt colder now but he didn't care.
He touched Milo's side one last time, then he backed away slowly, his heart aching with every step.
"I'll be back tomorrow, Milo. I promise. You just... you have to be brave."
The night at The Pines was torture. Every creak in the hallway made him flinch. He barely slept, his mind fixated on the tiny, shivering creature under the bridge.
'Is he cold? Is he scared? What if he's gone? What if a bigger animal found him?'
The next morning, he moved with a new purpose. At lunch, he was given his usual meal: a bruised apple, a slice of dry bread, and a carton of milk. He wolfed down the apple but he carefully, stealthily, wrapped the bread in a napkin and shoved it deep into his pocket.
The school day was an agonizing blur. He couldn't focus on the teacher's words. He just watched the clock, his leg bouncing with anxiety. He didn't even notice the other kids tripping him in the hall. He just scrambled up, clutched his pocket, and kept moving.
The moment the final bell rang, he didn't walk. He ran.
He ran all the way to the industrial canal, his lungs burning, the stale bread a precious weight in his pocket. He scrambled down the muddy embankment.
"Milo?" he called out, his voice high with panic. "Milo!"
He reached the small shelter. It was quiet.
'No. No, please...'
He pulled back the tarp, and his heart leaped. But luckily, he puppy was still there, curled in his jacket.
It lifted its head, saw him, and let out a series of excited, tiny sounds. It stumbled out of the jacket and began licking his hands, his face, anything it could reach.
"You're here! You're here!"
Cedric cried, relief washing over him. He sat down in the dirt, pulling the puppy into his lap.
"I brought you something. I brought you food!"
He unwrapped the bread. Milo attacked it ravenously, his tiny teeth tearing at the crusts.
Cedric broke it into smaller, more manageable pieces, his heart aching at how hungry the puppy was.
When the bread was gone, Milo licked his fingers clean before curling up in his lap, exhausted but happy and letting out a tiny, contented sigh.
Cedric just sat there, stroking the puppy's back, feeling the small ribs under the fur. He felt a wave of pure, simple happiness that was so unfamiliar it almost hurt.
"You're my friend." he whispered. "My only friend."
He spent an hour there, finding a broken plastic bowl and filling it with cleaner rainwater from a divot in the concrete. He reinforced the small shelter with more scraps he found.
And he complained. For the first time in two years, he actually complained to someone. He told Milo about the stupid school and about how he hated the color gray and about the drawing that got torn up.
Milo just listened, his tail giving a small, hopeful thump, thump, thump against the jacket.
The next few days established their routine. It became Cedric's entire reason for existing.
Every day at breakfast, he'd be given two slices of dry toast. He'd eat one and skillfully slide the other into his sock, hidden beneath his baggy trousers.
At lunch, he'd eat his apple and pocket the sandwich, no matter how gray the meat looked. At dinner, he'd hide potatoes or bits of sausage in a napkin.
It was a dangerous game. He was always hungry, his stomach a hollow ache. But the thought of Milo's hunger was worse.
He'd rush to the bridge after school, his heart light. Milo would be waiting, and the greeting became more ecstatic every day. The tiny, weak sounds had turned into sharp, happy barks.
The moment Milo saw him, the puppy would bolt from the shelter, a tiny black-and-white missile of pure joy, his tail wagging so hard his whole body wiggled.
Cedric would laugh—a real, rusty laugh—and fall to his knees, letting the puppy lick his face.
"I missed you too! I missed you too! I got you something good today!"
Milo was growing. The food was helping. After a week, his ribs weren't so sharp. After two, his black fur was starting to get a healthy, glossy shine. He was still small, but he was filled with energy.
Cedric found a discarded piece of rope, and they played tug-of-war, Milo growling with a ferocity that was adorable in its tininess.
Cedric would roll a small, smooth stone, and Milo would chase it, pouncing on it as if it were a dangerous monster, then proudly trot back with it, dropping the slobbery rock at Cedric's feet.
"Good boy! You're the best boy, Milo!"
Cedric would sit for hours, cross-legged, doing his homework in the fading light under the bridge, while Milo curled up and slept peacefully in his lap.
The cold, empty feeling that had lived in his stomach for two years was gone. It was replaced by a warm, protective, terrifying feeling.
He was happy. And it terrified him.
He was in his cot one night, listening to the rain, feeling the warmth Milo had left on his jacket which he now retrieved every night and took back every morning.
'Mom said hope is always there.' he thought, clutching the broken, taped-together drawing in his hand.
'I found Milo. He's... he's my hope. She wasn't wrong.'
But the thought brought a sharp spike of fear.
'Dax tore up my drawing. The kids at school... they hate me for no reason. What if they find him? What if they find Milo?'
The idea was so horrifying it made him sit up, his heart pounding. This was different from the drawing. This was alive. This was the first thing in two years that had loved him back.
'I can't let them.' he vowed to the darkness.
'I'll never let them find him. He's my secret. I'll protect him. No matter what.'
(POV CHANGED)
Dax was bored.
Life at The Pines was a long, gray stretch of boredom, broken only by meals, school, and finding new ways to pass the time. Usually, this meant finding a target. And for the past two years, his favorite target had been the 'weirdo'—Cedric.
The kid was perfect. Silent, weak, wouldn't fight back, and had that stupid, haunted look in his eyes that made him fun to poke. Dax had broken him, just like he'd broken everyone else. He'd found the kid's pathetic little drawing and ripped it to shreds, expecting a total meltdown. And he'd gotten one—a silent, pathetic one, but it was still a win.
After that, the kid had become a ghost. A walking nothing. Absolute boring.
But in the last few weeks, something had changed. The ghost was acting weird.
Dax first noticed it at lunch. The kid, who usually just stared at his food until it got cold, was suddenly... efficient.
He'd wolf down the apple or the watery soup, but the dry roll? The slice of bread? He'd wrap it in a napkin, quick as a snake, and hide it.
Dax watched him across the noisy cafeteria. He saw the kid's hand slip into his pocket.
'Stealing food?' Dax thought, intrigued.
'He's starving, but he's stealing his own food? What for?'
He decided to test it. He walked over and sat down, his heavy frame making the bench creak.
"What're you hiding, weirdo?"
The kid flinched, his whole body going rigid. Oh boy, Dax loved that.
"No." Cedric said, his voice flat. "Just saving it for later."
'Liar.' Dax could smell a lie like blood in the water. The kid was terrified, but he was holding his ground.
Dax's eyes narrowed.
'This was new.'
He grabbed the kid's milk carton.
"Thirsty, you weirdo?" he sneered, and upended it over Cedric's head.
He waited for the usual reaction—the flinch, the silent tears, the way Cedric would just sit there with defeated face.
The first part happened. The kid sat there, milk dripping from his hair onto the floor. But then, Dax saw something that made his skin crawl.
A smile.
It was tiny, barely a twitch of the lips, but it was there. The weirdo was smiling because he'd gotten away with it. Because Dax had taken the milk, but he hadn't found the bread.
'He won.'
Dax felt a flash of hot, sudden anger. He hated that. It wasn't just weird, it was a challenge.
"What's so funny, freak?" Dax snarled, shoving him off the bench.
Cedric just scrambled up, grabbed his tray, and walked away, still clutching his pocket.
'Okay. So you've got a secret.'
Dax thought, watching him go.
'This is getting fun.'
He told his crew—Mace and Carver, two younger boys who followed him around like shadows—to keep an eye on him.
"The freak is acting weird." Dax had told them.
"He's hoarding food, and I think he's sneaking off. Watch him after school. I want to know where he goes."
For three days, they tailed him. And for three days, he did the same thing.
The moment the final bell rang, the kid didn't walk to the bus line with the other Pines kids.
He ran. He ran in the opposite direction, towards the old industrial canal, the one place Ms. Albright forbade them from going.
'Stupid.' Dax thought, him and his crew following at a safe distance, cutting through alleys.
'He's fast for a skeleton. What's so important over there?'
Today, they were going to find out.
The November wind was cold, whipping rain into their faces. Dax saw Cedric scramble down the muddy embankment under the old stone bridge, disappearing into the shadows.
Dax held up a hand, signaling his crew to stop. "Wait here. Don't make a sound."
He crept forward, his shoes slipping on the wet gravel. He got to the edge of the concrete arch and peered down into the darkness.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust.
He saw the kid, Cedric, sitting in the dirt, huddled under a dirty old tarp.
And he was... talking.
"I got you something good today, Milo." Cedric was whispering, his voice happy. Actually happy.
"It's meatloaf. I saved it from dinner last night."
Dax's eyes narrowed. 'Milo? Who the hell is Milo?'
And then, something moved.
A tiny, filthy, black and white thing crawled out from inside Cedric's jacket. A rat?
No. It was a dog. A pathetic, shivering, rat-sized dog.
Dax watched, frozen in disbelief, as this weirdo of a kid, who never spoke, who never fought back, who was a ghost... broke the stolen meatloaf into tiny pieces and fed it, one by one, to the disgusting animal.
The puppy yipped and licked the kid's face.
And Cedric laughed.
It was a quiet, rusty sound, but it was a laugh.
Dax felt a surge of pure, venomous disgust. 'This was the secret? This was why he was smiling? This was what he was hoarding food for? '
A stupid, worthless, mangy mutt.
He watched for another minute as Cedric rolled a small stone and the puppy chased it, growling playfully. He watched the kid hug the dog, burying his face in its fur.
'You are so stupid.' Dax thought. He felt a slow, cruel smile spread across his own face. This was so much better than he'd imagined.
He'd found it. The kid had finally found something he cared about.
And Dax had found the one thing he could take away.
He quietly signaled for Mace and Carver to back away. They slipped back up the embankment, their movements silent. The discovery was the fun part. The anticipation.
'Tomorrow.' Dax thought, the rain feeling warm on his skin now. 'Tomorrow, we'll come back. And we'll see how much the weirdo really loves his little secret.'
(BACK TO CEDRIC)
It had been a good day. For the first time, Cedric hadn't felt that cold knot of dread in his stomach during school. He'd even answered a question in class without his voice shaking.
He'd done his usual job at lunch: eating the apple, hiding the sandwich in his sock, and the milk carton in his waistband. Dax had been busy tormenting a new kid, a small seven-year-old, and hadn't even looked at Cedric.
'Good.'
Cedric had thought, feeling a small, sharp pang of guilt for the new kid, but it was overshadowed by his own relief.
'He's busy. He won't notice me.'
As the final bell rang, Cedric was the first one out the door. He ran, his feet pounding the pavement, his heart light. He had a particularly good haul today: half of a ham sandwich and a small bag of chips he'd found on an empty cafeteria table.
He took the usual route, cutting through the alley behind the laundromat.
But suddenly, something felt… wrong. A little prickle on the back of his neck.
He paused for a second at the mouth of the alley and turned his head back.
But there's nothing.
No footsteps. No breathing. No shadow darting away. Just the sound of distant traffic.
'Must have be the wind.' he told himself while pulling his thin jacket tighter.
'Stop being stupid. Milo is waiting.'
He dismissed the feeling and ran faster, scrambling down the muddy embankment to the canal.
"Milo!" he called out, his voice full of a joy that was still new to him.
"I'm here! I got you chips!"
A frantic, happy barking answered him. Milo shot out from under the tarp like a little black and white rocket, his tail wagging so hard that his entire body wiggled.
He was bigger now, healthier and his coat shining.
"Whoa, easy boy!" Cedric laughed, falling to his knees as the puppy jumped all over him, licking his face, his ears, his chin.
"Okay, okay, I missed you too!"
He pulled the treasures from his pockets and Milo devoured the sandwich in three bites and then delicately, curiously, sniffed at the chips.
Cedric held one out, and the puppy crunched it, his eyes wide with surprise at the new flavor.
"Good, right?" Cedric said, scratching the dog's soft ears. "We're eating like kings today, Milo."
They played for nearly an hour. Cedric threw the slobbery rope, and Milo, now strong enough to almost win their tug-of-war, growled playfully, shaking his head back and forth.
The cold, damp space under the bridge felt like a palace. It was the only place in the entire world he felt safe. The only place he felt... real.
"Okay, one more, boy!" Cedric said, picking up the small, smooth stone they used for fetch.
"Fetch!"
He faked a throw, and Milo, fooled, ran in the wrong direction. Cedric laughed.
"No, you silly! Over here!"
He was about to throw it for real when Milo suddenly froze.
The puppy's happy yips stopped. He dropped the rope, and a low, deep growl rumbled in his small chest. He was staring, hackles raised, at the shadows by the entrance to the embankment.
Cedric went cold. "Milo? What wrong?" he whispered, his voice full of confusion.
"What's wrong, boy? Is it a squirrel?"
Milo didn't look at him. He just kept growling, a sound more menacing than any of their play-fights.
And then, a new voice echoed under the bridge. A slow, mocking voice that turned Cedric's blood to ice.
"Well, well, well. What a nice little family."
Dax stepped out from behind a concrete pillar. He wasn't alone. Mace and Carver, his two main lackeys, fanned out behind him, blocking the only escape route.
"Dax..."
Cedric whispered, scrambling to his feet. His first instinct was to hide Milo, but it was too late. He instinctively moved in front of the puppy.
"Surprised, weirdo?" Dax sneered. "Did you really think you could keep a secret from me?"
Milo barked, a sharp, angry sound, defending his master.
"Oh, look at that."
Dax said, his eyes lighting up with a cruel, cold amusement.
"It's trying to protect you. How cute."
Before Cedric could even scream, Dax moved. He didn't lunge for Cedric. He lunged for the dog.
THWACK.
His boot connected solidly with Milo's small body. The puppy let out a horrible, piercing yelp as it was kicked, flying through the air and slamming hard against the concrete wall.
"NO!" Cedric screamed, a raw, animal sound. He lunged at Dax, all his fear replaced by pure, blinding rage.
But he never made it.
Mace and Carver grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms.
"Let me go! LET ME GO! Milo!!!"
"Hold him," Dax ordered, his voice calm.
Mace shoved Cedric face-first into the mud, his knee grinding into Cedric's back. Carver held his arms.
"You like hitting people, huh?" Mace grunted, and slammed his fist into Cedric's ribs.
The air rushed out of Cedric's lungs. He gasped, the taste of mud and blood filling his mouth.
"Milo!" he tried to scream again, but the sound was choked.
Mace's arms clamped around him. Carver shoved him to the ground, grinding Cedric's face into the mud.
"LET ME GO! Milo! Milo!"
The world blurred. Mud. Blood. The heavy, crushing weight on his spine.
Then he saw a small, shaking, limping movement.
That was Milo.
The puppy was dragging himself upright. He limped toward Cedric instead of away. His growl was weak, broken, but he still bared his teeth. He still tried to stand between his master and Dax.
"Milo…no…stay bac—!" Cedric cried, voice cracking.
"Oh, look how stupid you are."
Dax laughed. He took a step back as Milo limped towards him, then kicked again, like he was punting a football.
The connection was brutal. The sound Milo made didn't sound like a bark, or a whine or anything that should come from something alive.
Cedric's mind shattered into white static.
He didn't feel the punches. He didn't feel the knee in his back. All he felt was the screaming inside his skull, the desperate, agonized shriek of something dying that should never have been hurt at all.
"You know what, weirdo?"
Dax said, walking over to where Cedric was pinned. He squatted down, looking at Cedric's mud-caked, tear-streaked face.
"I almost felt bad for you. A pathetic, crying little ghost. But seeing you all happy... smiling to yourself at lunch? It just makes me sick."
He looked over at the small, twitching heap in the dirt.
"Your dog... he's a pretty little thing, isn't he?"
"No... please..." Cedric sobbed, his voice broken. He was struggling, but Mace's weight was crushing him.
"Please, Dax. Don't. He didn't do anything. Hit me. Hit me again. Just leave him alone. Please, I'm begging you!"
Dax just smiled. He slowly walked over to Milo. The puppy was trying to get up, its back legs dragging. It let out another weak, defiant growl.
"Still trying to act tough, huh?" Dax mused.
He raised his boot and brought it down.
Thud.
Milo yelped.
"STOP IT!" Cedric shrieked, his voice cracking. He thrashed with all his might, but Carver just punched him in the back of the head.
Thud.
A whine.
"PLEASE! STOP! HE's JUST A PUPPY! STOP IT! STOP!"
Cedric was screaming, sobbing, his words incoherent, his entire world narrowing to the horrifying, rhythmic sound.
Thud.
A choked gasp.
Thud.
Deadly silence.
Dax kicked the little body one more time, then nudging it with his boot. But it didn't move.
Plip. Plop.
A fat drop of rain hit Dax's neck. He looked up, annoyed. The rain started as if the sky itself couldn't watch anymore.
"Tsk." he clicked his tongue, wiping the raindrop from his face.
"And I was just starting to have fun. This rain's such a mood-killer."
He nodded to his crew. "Let him go. He's not worth soaking out clothes."
Mace slammed a final kick into Cedric's ribs before they walked away, laughing like they'd just finished a game.
Cedric was left alone in the mud, the cold rain instantly soaking him to the bone. He couldn't breathe. Everything hurt. But the pain in his ribs and his head was nothing.
'Milo...'
He crawled.
Hands shaking. Breath wheezing. He crawling inch by inch toward the small black and white body lying crumpled in the mud.
"Milo…? Hey… come on…"
His voice shook violently.
"We gotta get under the tarp. You hate the rain… remember? Come on…"
He reached the puppy.
It was lying on its side, its eyes half open, staring at nothing. Its black and white fur was already dark with mud and blood.
"Milo?" Cedric nudged him with a trembling hand.
The body was warm.
But not alive.
"Wake up."
It didn't bark. It didn't whimper. It didn't move.
"No." Cedric whispered in denial.
"No, no. Y-You're just tired. Wake up. Please wake up, boy…"
He laid his head on its small chest, listening, praying for the thump-thump that had become his own heartbeat.
But there was nothing.
Just silence. A cold and wet silence.
The realization hit him. The final, absolute, soul-destroying realization.
A sound tore itself from Cedric's throat, a low, animal wail of pure denial.
"No. No, no, no, no..."
He frantically shook the small, limp body, his voice rising to a hysterical scream.
"WAKE UP! I SAVED YOU! YOU're MY FRIEND! WAKE UP, MILO! I SAID WAKE UP!"
He pulled the limp body into his lap, hugging it tight to his chest, rocking back and forth in the mud, the rain plastering his hair to his face.
He looked up at the gray, indifferent sky and let out a scream.
A raw, animal scream tore out of him, ripping his throat open. It echoed under the bridge, drowned by the storm, swallowed by the sky that refused to hear him.
"AGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!"
He held the dead puppy close, his body finally going still. The cold from the concrete seeped into him, but it was nothing compared to the ice filling his heart.
'Mom?' he thought, his mind breaking.
'Mom, where is the hope? When is it supposed to come? Why... why did I try to be happy? Why did Milo have to die?'
'What did I do wrong? What did I do wrong, Mom? Why is it that every time I find something, it's taken away from me? Am I the cause of everything? Am I a bad child for asking for something called "hope"?'
He clutched the stone in his pocket.
It was just a cold, sharp rock.
And Milo… was just gone.
And he couldn't save his family… once again.
'Why...Why you lied to me?'
The anchor keeping his mind together finally snapped. Now, he is nothing but the broken, empty husk of a boy that he used to be.