Amnesia.

Holland was sleeping like the dead with the same boring dreams playing on repeat in his mind when his 4-year-old great dane, Luna, began scratching vigorously at his door like she'd attained a racoon's bite and a case of rabies. She wasn't very much the type of dog that liked to howl its mouth off until its throat hurt (she wasn't a husky or a chihuahua, that was for sure), and with her big paws slamming against the doorframe, Holland was shaken awake within a couple of minutes, clueless to why his parents weren't attending to her already.

"What do you want?" he grumbled angrily, lifting his head off his deflated pillow to see that the door was shaking, trembling on its hinges like never before, and it looked as if it might collapse at any moment. Dread coiled in the boy's stomach like a snake slithering through his intestines.

"Luna, quit it!" he yelled from the shelter of his blankets. How were his parents not hearing this? They were both light sleepers, and his younger brother Dylan would have been rolling in his own screeches and shrieks of anger that he'd been awoken. Dylan was 11, though to the other members of the Berryman family, he'd never grown out of his terrible twos.

Finally, he clambered from the safe haven of his sheets and ratty stuffies his aunts endlessly gifted him despite his hatred for them and hobbled to the door. He'd busted his knee sliding in a baseball game the previous Friday, and it still hurt like hell as he crossed the creaking floorboards to see what had spooked his girl. They'd had her since she was 3 months old, just a little puppy, but now she was taller than his hip and towered over his head when standing; So, the average size of a great dane compared to an under-average-heighted 13 year old boy.

He feared opening the door; What if her paws swiped down on him and left free space for stitches? His parents had blown so much money on a recent trip to Disney World in Orlando, Florida, and he didn't want them whining in his ear about hospital bills.

When he finally mustered up the courage to pull open the white-painted door, Luna barked in fear before settling when she realized it was only him. "What is it, girl? The fuck's goin' on?" he asked as if she could answer, crouching before her and petting her back. Luna stuck her tongue out at him before trotting down the stairs, the rickety wooden platforms crying out for help underneath her weight. Holland hurried after her, still half-asleep, mumbling about how annoying she could be.

"Luna, wait." But she didn't; Luna didn't wait as she slid across the kitchen tiles and began ramming her head against the screen door that led to their backyard. "Hey! Luna!" Immediately the netting broke, and as Holland watched in horror, Luna threw herself down the steps and into the darkness, pounding toward the forest beyond their fence and disappearing between trees that seemed like giants looming over him, intensifying his fear. He swallowed his dread, blinded by his love for his best buddy, and threw on flip flops, snatching a flashlight from the kitchen counter before following suit.

"Luna? Luna! Luna!" he shouted helplessly into the dark as the flashlight flickered and he muttered a stream of profanities ("Fuck, shit, shit!") before pushing on. He had to find her, or else his parents would blame him. You opened the back door, his father would say, didn't you, son? Why would you let our baby out in the dead of night without going after her? Did you forget about her? His mother would agree with a nod and an 'oh, yeah, I bet he did, Robert'.

But he didn't forget. After all, he was running blindly after Luna herself at 3 in the morning without an idea of where the hell he was going.

"Luna! Luna!" Holland's voice rose above the trees and scattered birds previously perched, observing, on high branches. They darted into the sky and flew safely home; Whereas, on the other hand, the boy couldn't go home. He couldn't, not without Luna. Not without his girl.