A young boy shivered on the ground, lying between two dumpsters in an alley, facing the wall. He had an empty pizza box over him for cover. He tried to sleep through the harsh cold of the night.

  Footsteps approached, he was startled but didn’t have the energy to move. He hoped they wouldn’t notice him. They halted nearby.

  “You got your end of the deal?” one deep, rough voice said.

  “Yes, yes, as long as you have my money.”

  They were quiet for a moment, there was some rustling of what he guessed was money. Then there was no noise.

  “What’s a kid doing here?”

  He tensed, he tried his best to lay still.

  “Ugh, the little brat might’ve heard something.”

  “So what?”

  “We can’t risk him ratting us out anywhere, shoot him.”

  The boy bit his finger to stop himself from making noise in fear.

  “What? No, it’s a kid. A homeless one, clearly. Who do you think he’d rat us out to?”

  The sound of a gun being pulled out. “I can’t risk it.”

  It fired.

  The boy gasped and jerked up. He was in a car, in the passenger seat. They drove through the city, in a darker, quieter area. Beside him sat a woman. Brown hair, light skin, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. She never spared him a glance. He heard the sound of himself asking her something, felt the sensation of asking the question. She ignored him.

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  The car stopped with a sudden jerk on the side of the road.

  “Step outside,” she told him.

  The boy was confused and scared. She’d acted weird all day. “Huh?”

  “Don’t make me force you,” she threatened.

  “But—”

  “Get out!”

  The boy flinched away from her, he heard his own heartbeat, his vision blurry with tears and fear. Then he unbuckled himself and pushed the door open. There he stood, outside, looking back at the woman, waiting for what would happen next. She leaned over and yanked the door closed. The boy grabbed the handle and tried to open it again but it had already been locked.

  “No!” He pulled again, he thought he might break the handle. “Wait!” He pounded on the window. She didn’t care for his screams or pleas, or the tears streaming down his cheeks. The engine started. He still held the handle when it sped off, he fell to the ground.

  “Mom, come back, please!” he pleaded after the car already left his sight. “Mama!”

  Eric jerked awake with a gasp, for real this time. He sat up, heart pounding in his chest, whole body slick with sweat, breathing fast and irregular. He was in the hut, on the mattress. Keith slept by his side, his back facing him. Eric placed a hand on his arm, stroking it, lightly pinching. He breathed in deeply. This was real, he was real. Eric rubbed his face, getting the slick hair off his forehead.

  He jumped at a touch on his arm.

  “It’s okay, it’s me,” Keith whispered. He sat up too, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

  Eric wanted to cry. He wanted to hide his face in his chest and sob it all out, scream at the world. “A nightmare.”

  Keith frowned.

  “Or a memory.”

  “What memory?”

  Eric shook his head. Keith wrapped him in his arms and pulled his head into the crook of his neck. “It’s alright, you can tell me.”

  Eric sighed. Why wouldn’t he tell him? “First was a memory of when I nearly got shot,” he told him, barely audible. “Then of when my mom abandoned me.”

  Keith hummed, he gave his shoulder a comforting rub. “Mine abandoned me, too. At a gas station. They took me on a short road trip, then stopped to get gas and told me to get a snack in the shop. When I walked back outside, they were gone.”

  Eric listened to his voice, feeling the vibrations in his throat against his head.

  “I’ve nearly gotten trampled multiple times while I was shifted into a mouse or something.”

  Eric snorted. He didn’t think he could laugh after this, but here he was. He moved away from his neck to look at Keith with a smile and tears in his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered. It felt less scary, what happened to him, knowing he went through something similar. Keith smiled back, he pushed their foreheads together.

  “Of course.”