Going Back

-Tod's POV-

I didn't mean to…

It was an accident

"An accident…" I blurt out. My head feels like it was hit by a bat with nails. I don't know.. no… I'm at home. My head is on a stained and sticky table. I lift it up only for it to drag down.

"Howya, Tod, awake now?" A man says, someone I recognize thankfully. "You've had a lot to drink." He chuckles loudly. Quiet down, you moran.

"Time…" I quickly say before rushing to the jacks.

While I was… busy… I heard the other guys behind me talking amongst themselves. "Time?" "He was probably askin' what time it is."

Through their drunken chatter, they managed to give me an answer; 2:15 PM.

I stand up feeling nauseous and light-headed. For some reason, the only thing I can remember is what happened this morning.

"Answer me!"

"Why should I tell you?

A bastard like you shouldn't be here!"

Don't call me that!

I was angry… it just piled up from last week… It was in a fit of anger I hurt him again. It's been years. The scar should've healed by now! Mind did… I touch my right cheek down to my jaw line. Sure, it was rough and feels numb in some places, but I don't feel pain anymore. Not a lot anyway. Still, he knows not to call me that! My blood boils when he does. My hands clenched into a fist, my face contorting into the emotion I feel.

It wasn't enough to hurt him like that. He doesn't punch my scar even when he wants to kill me. An old wound hurting is the worst. When it hurts, it opens up. And when that happens, the past comes out like blood.

"Mom!"

"Get back, Tod!"

My head burns as if a red-hot iron stabbed it.

"Whatta dumb woman. Shouldn't have seen It. You don't wanna be like ya mother here, boy. Unless you, too, are a

Little

B a s t a r d."

I thrash around to get the memory out of my head. I throw things down until the guys behind me restrained me to calm down. The memory was burned into my eyes. Even if I closed them, it would still be there, torturing me. The guys forced me to drink some more.

Eventually, after three empty bottles, the memory was gone, along with my worry. The anger before shot back up again. That mutt deserves to feel pain from his scar. Nobody calls me bastard! My eagerness to see him feel more pain was what drove me to burst through the room's door to downstairs. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins, controlling me like a puppet. His scar pain isn't enough compared to my own! I was determined to fight, not even the avalanche of snow can stop me.

—-

The closer I got to the house, the more venom was injected into my body. The taste of which was bitter. The jackeen from last week was the first to notice me. He was also the only one to come out running to me just to yell at me, "You! Get out! You shouldn't be here!" And other meaningless words. I didn't care. I shove him out of my way and headed straight to where I know the mutt would be; in the back inside his office, his favorite place considering it used to be his grandfather's. When I reached it, it was locked. That was odd… he's doesn't ever lock it.

"He's not here! Now, get out!"

He left? Why? What for? He can't have gone back to… I turn my head towards that annoying little gobshite.

"Where is he?" I shout.

"Not any of your business! It's a private matter the likes of you shouldn't know!" He barks back.

That's all he does. He's worse than the mutt. Always barking and never shutting up. How is he even allowed here? Whatever… Since he won't spit out where he is, I'll just find someone who does. The only one I know who would give me the answer.

I strode over to the end of the hallway. The left side holds a big living room, one that only personal family members, and by extension, gang members are allowed in. He usually hangs in here (at least from what I remember whenever I used to come here as a kid). Even though it isn't locked, anyone the family doesn't know will be tortured into silence or be shot dead. Meetings would be held in secret here, meetings of great magnitude that speaks only of the safety of the family. The last time I was here was for the Christmas tragedy of 1933. When I opened it, to my surprise, it was empty. Not a single soul here.

"Where's Chief?" I demanded from the jackeen.

"You have the audacity to say his name after what you've done?" He yells, his face looking both offended and confused. What I've done? I don't have time for this.

"Are you going to answer my question or am I going to force it out?"

He pulls out his gun, a colt no doubt, and aims it at me. Compared to my own, it was useless.

"You should know as you murdered him!"

Murdered?

Chief?

I sprint past the annoyance to the back of the house. I thrust open the door. There lies the Segugio cemetery next to a dead forest. Snow had piled on so thick like icing on top of the gravestones that some of them were unreadable or blended in and looked invisible. Each grave held either a gang member or a family member. Sometimes, even both as the father of the mutt was to be the leader before his death instead of the leader now. His gravestone was less of a stone and more of a cross. The same for his mother, Wednesday, and most importantly his grandfather, a man I held with the utmost respect and guilt. After his death, everything changed.

There was only supposed to be three crosses until.. there… a fourth cross. Slowly, as a snail, I wobble to it. An invisible force was pulling me towards it. The inscription carved into the cross was all I could see.

Here lies Saturday, a loyal gang

member and family member

May this cross serve to rest the departed soul and comfort the souls who live

Autumn 1896 - Winter 1951

"Saturday…"

That was only just yesterday. The last time I saw him was last week when I left the money. I didn't even say goodbye.

The name Saturday was not Chief's name. It was the day he died. A tradition among the Segugios was to never say the real name of those who died but instead only say the day they died. By not using their name, it was a way to pretend they were still alive. It also served as a means to have a memorial feast for the dead on the days they died on. It's the same with Copper's father (Monday), his mother (Wednesday), and his grandfather (Friday).

The anger from before is now sorrow. My thoughts were quickly becoming a jumbled mess. I heard footsteps crushing the snow behind me.

"How did he die…"

"He was shot…"

"Where?" I asked unconsciously.

"In the heart." He answered as if he were asked before.

Again...

It happened again…

"Both you and boss asked that."

That's why he suspects…

"I got a question for you, Fox, if you really didn't kill him then why did you leave silently?"

"I couldn't stand being in that house any longer than I did." I saw quietly. I grab hold of the cross' head before closing my eyes. He was the only one who didn't hate me completely after 1936. He was the only one who didn't blame me.

Then, I turned to the man.

"Is this why he came last night? He believes I did this?"

He nods.

Just like before.

"He…" He begins, not knowing what to say. He looks down, contemplating a dilemma and considering his words carefully. Thinking too hard must be his talent. He continues, "He believes you left a rat here to take back the money. The same rat killed Saturday."

"A rat? There's a rat in the gang?" I demanded, confused by such a thought. It was impossible to believe. Usually when joining the Segugios, you must pass a test and give up a part of you (symbolism for giving up your past life and entering a new life along with rejoining a new family- a gang). Whoever this rat is must be someone who isn't afraid of giving up such a part nor afraid of passing the test. I never took part in such a test. All I know is it's a sure sign that you'll never betray this family.

"Yeah. ('Boss wouldn't like me telling you' he mumbles)… there's a secret room in the house that Chief was hiding with the money in. I'm sure you know where?"

"Behind the painting… Pretty smart of him to use that trick. Although I would've hidden it somewhere better like another room considering the money I gave you." I emphasize the word 'money' in particular. I worked hard for the money that was foolishly taken.

"Which room would that be? There's only that one room that's secret."

I turn my head back and forth then back to the jackeen.

"Let's go to the meeting (lounge) room. You know which one I'm hoping."

We walk back to the house. I was wise enough to put my guard up. If there is a rat, then you never know when they'll be listening in. It's best if the rat doesn't know he's been found out. When we walk in, I immediately sat on the love seat. I didn't know when my legs would give out back there. I hate visiting that cemetery, it's too cold, though I'm sure the mutt wouldn't mind. Winter used to be his favorite when he was a kid. Of course now I wouldn't put it past him to hate it.

I could hear the jackeen over there muttering to himself as he closed the door.

"Boss is going to kill me when he finds out I let him stay!"

Just as I was about to open my mouth, I shut it just as quickly. Let him find out. I want him to open the door only to see me. I want to know more about this rat.

Its as much as my rat as it is his.

As a fox, it's my duty to hunt rats…

And kill them.