Page 44 of No Place Like Home

With shaky legs, I went up the stairs. I tried every room, and each time I came back empty, I became more frantic. When I made it to what I assumed was the master bedroom, I knocked on the door.

The first thing I heard was whining, followed by a bark.

Oh,fuck me.

I waited by the door in case Quincy was making his way to open it. When I heard paws scratching the wood, my blood chilled. Simba was whining uncontrollably now, and my heart was beating out of my chest. I tapped the door and the dog barked.

“Quincy.”It came out as a plea.

Fuck me.

I couldn’t do this!

Why the fuck did I get asked to do this?

I pushed the door open and prepared for Simba to kill me.

Here lies Jess, who died in the hands of a wannabe lion.

Simba didn’t kill me, but he did attack me. His paws came to my waist, making me lose my balance. My bony ass hit the floor; the loud thud echoed through the hall. Simba didn’t care that I was on the ground helpless. He was still on top of me. I closed my eyes when he opened his mouth. My face was about to be chewed by a dog! Slobber covered my face and not sharp canines. Simba was licking me. I opened my eyes, and his fluffy face was right there. He burrowed his face into the crook of my neck and whined some more.

Slowly I brought my hand up and ran it over his long fur. His tail started to wag, and I kept petting him, noticing how his hair didn’t feel as soft and silky as last time.

“Hey, boy.” I spoke slowly, not wanting to startle him.

I wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t eat me. This was not the same dog I had seen a year ago.

“Remember me?” I asked as I continued to pet him.

Why was I talking to a dog?

“Okay, boy, off me,” I said.

Simba understood. He whined, but did as I asked. God, he was such a good boy.

Jesus, listen to me. I was catching feelings for the wannabe lion.

“Quincy!” My voice came out more aggravated now.

I was scared, worried, and angry that his dog was neglected. Simba sat while I got up. When I walked into the room, I breathed relief when I didn’t see anyone lying there.

The bed was unmade. That was my only clue that he was sleeping here.

“Where’s Quincy?” I asked the dog.

I guessed I should give him more credit, because he gave me a low bark and started to walk away, and when I didn’t follow, he barked at me again. Guess the dog knew where his master was.

This was kinda ridiculous. I was following a dog. He took me down the stairs to what I assumed was a basement.

“He should have called you Rafiki, since you know the way,” I mumbled to the dog.

He had no idea what I was saying, but his ears perked up.

As soon as we landed on the last step, the atmosphere changed. The air smelled like stale beer and chips. It smelled disgusting, like there was no life in this house. Unlike the rest of the house, everything was loud down here. A game was playing full blast.

“Quincy!” I yelled so I could be heard over the noise.

No answer.

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