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2
When I woke the next morning, my hand went out of habit to find Buddy's harness, and closed on nothing.
Donald's words from the day before came back to me, and I hurried out without even putting on my shoes.
"Buddy. Buddy…"
Sometime overnight, boxes had appeared in the living room. I tripped over one and cracked my forehead hard against the corner of the table.
There was movement at the door.
"First thing in the morning, and here you are putting on some tragic little show on the floor?"
"To bring us sisters closer, I went out and bought Buddy some premium dog food."
Every nerve in me went tight.
Sharon was a devil. In front of others she was a sweet, harmless little flower who wouldn't hurt a soul.
Behind closed doors she turned vicious and cruel. Back then I'd suffered plenty at her hands.
"No need for that."
"Don, look at her. She's got such a grudge against me. I really don't know what I'm supposed to do."
Donald's cold voice came at me.
"Freya, Sharon is your sister. Can't you act a little like the older one?"
He'd seen with his own eyes how Sharon and her mother treated me, and now he stood on their side.
"Sharon was young and thoughtless back then. Now she wants to mend things with you, and you're being ungrateful."
I clamped my hands over my ears, my chest aching from holding it all in.
Buddy seemed to sense how close I was to breaking, and nudged my palm with his nose.
The next moment, Buddy let out a whimper and dropped to the floor, in pain.
"Buddy, what's wrong?"
I couldn't see. All I could feel was the wetness around his mouth.
"What now? Is this ever going to end this early in the—"
Donald didn't finish. He'd seen the state Buddy was in.
"What did you do to Buddy? Why is he throwing up this much?"
The one he turned on by reflex was always me.
Buddy was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with food poisoning.
The vet detected a large amount of xylitol in his stomach.
"Xylitol is a lethal toxin for dogs. The dose is way over the limit, his organs are already damaged, we have to pump his stomach and treat him right now."
"What exactly did you feed Buddy?"
Sharon's eyes went red with hurt, her voice breaking.
"I don't know. I only wanted to do something nice for him."
Donald shoved me back hard.
"Sharon didn't do it on purpose. She already feels terrible about it."
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
When Buddy first came home, he'd once gotten an upset stomach from eating something he shouldn't have.
Donald had stayed with me and watched over Buddy without leaving his side, and he'd said,
"Buddy is family. We have to protect him together."
The stomach pumping was agonizing. Buddy's small body kept convulsing, yet he was so good about it, not a single cry of pain.
I held Buddy through a whole day of IV drips.
When I came back from dinner in the evening, the hospital bed was empty. No sign of Buddy.
The vet said Donald had taken him.
A bad feeling flickered through me, and I quickly called Donald.
No one answered.
I could only feel my way home alone.
Without Buddy's help, I nearly got hit by a car several times.
Bowing again and again to apologize.
"Where's Buddy?"
He looked at the sorry state of me without a trace of guilt.
"Sharon was afraid you'd blame her, so she moved back to the old estate tonight."
"She's scared to be alone, so she borrowed Buddy to watch the place for her."
Sharon was a devil. How could I leave Buddy in her hands?
My voice shook with panic as I begged, low and pleading.
"Have her bring Buddy back, and I'll take him and go, all right?"
But Donald only sounded irritated.
"Freya, being blind doesn't make you right. We've been bending over backwards to accommodate you at every turn."
"Can't you show a little sense?"
I shook my head desperately, tears spilling down.
"Don, Buddy's still sick. I'm begging you, get him back."
Donald pried my fingers loose one by one, his voice tired.
"Sharon's probably asleep by now. If I go bother her, she won't get any sleep tonight."
"Tomorrow. I'll bring Buddy back tomorrow, okay?"
