Inviting Fire

Hatred and desire haunted my dreams. I woke up tangled in my sheets, Blue standing next to the bed, his eyes glowing green in the dark room. "I'm okay," I told him. He pushed his nose against the mosquito net and whined. "You don't think so?" I asked with a laugh. He circled around to the net's opening. I reached through, petting his head to reassure him. Blue was a giant of a dog with one brown eye and one blue. When I adopted him, he was as tall as a Great Dane, but thin. The pound thought he was about a year old. Four years later, he looked different. His coat, ratty when I brought him home to Park Slope, now shone in the soft light. Blue's chest was broad and strong. The pink scars from a bullet he took for me were hidden beneath his long coat. I looked out my balcony doors into the jungle. The sky was still dark, the foliage a pitch black mass. I heard the guttural roar of the howler monkeys and knew the sun would be here soon. Blue's nails clicked on the tile as he walked to the door. Blue stared at me. "I get it," I said. "You want to go for a run." He lowered his front end, waving his tail around in the air and let out a low warble. I climbed through the opening of my mosquito net. The tiles were cool against my bare feet. I dressed quickly, Blue following me around the room, encouraging me by tapping his nose against my hip. Sneakers tied, headlamp in place and phone in hand, I opened the door. We passed other villas on our route. This was once an eco-resort. Now it was a training center for Joyful Justice, the stupidest named vigilante organization to ever blow stuff up. But no one asked me when they were naming it, even though I inspired the whole thing. They had it wrong—I am a monster, not a hero. I don’t care about justice; I crave revenge. P.S. The dog does not die.