Читать книгу No One Can Hurt Him Anymore - Scott Cupp - Страница 6

PROLOGUE

His name was A.J.

He loved Ninja Turtles and Steven Seagal movies.

He was ten years old and small for his age. He had tousled brown hair, watchful brown eyes, and a look of perpetual apology on his baby face, as if everything he did—or thought—required one. A.J. had a sixth sense about anger and aggression. He could see it in the twitch of an eye or the tilt of a head. He had mastered “body language.” He had endured. Scars—psychological and physical—were his constant companions.

This was as happy and secure as it ever got for A.J.: He was walking his dog. To be sure, the animal was truly a mutt, but no ordinary dog—not to A.J. The peaceful look on his face revealed that they had a bond. Neither of them had anywhere else to look to for friendship—much less love.

In truth, the dog had it better.

It was 1:30 in the morning and cool outside—almost cold. A.J. wore a stained T-shirt and pants a size too small. He laughed out loud as he tried to keep up with the dog.

The neighborhood was veiled in darkness, but A.J. wasn’t afraid. At least, not of walking his dog at such strange hours. Going back home—that’s what he feared more than anything.

The dog took him full circle around the neighborhood and they finally ended up in front of their residence—nearly indistinguishable in the row of look-alike houses. The dog stopped, sharing A.J.’s reluctance.

Maybe if he used the patio door, they wouldn’t notice him coming in....