**The Saviour**
Just a hundred miles left when my headlights caught a red car pulled over on the shoulder, bonnet up. A bloke stood beside it, waving frantically. Stopping on a deserted road at night—utter recklessness. But the sky ahead had lightened with the promise of dawn, and the journey was nearly done. I pulled over and stepped out. Before I took two steps, something cracked against the back of my skull.
I came to with someone rifling through my pockets. Tried to move, but a dead weight pinned me down. Must’ve been more than one attacker—boots slammed into my ribs. Agony tore through me.
Then the blows rained down. Kicks, mostly. I curled up, knees to chest, arms shielding my head. A kick to the ribs, white-hot pain—then black.
The next time I woke, whimpering filled my ears. Thought it was me at first. But the kicking had stopped. I twitched, and a wet nose nudged my cheek. A dog—watchful, wary—hovered over me. Tried to sit up, but the pain in my side stole my breath. Broken rib. My thoughts slogged through cotton wool. The dog whined again.
Later, the rumble of an engine. Someone speaking, voice unplaceable. “Nearly to town. Hang in there, mate.”
Too heavy to open my eyes. Exhaustion dragged me under.
A jolt woke me. Bright light seared my vision. A girl’s voice: “He’s awake.”
Blurry faces under flickering hospital lights. Nausea swelled. Movement stopped. A face leaned in—old man, grey beard trimmed neat. “Your name, son? Remember what happened?”
“Oliver Dawson. I was—” My lips felt shattered, numb.
“Took quite the beating.”
“My car—” Each breath stabbed.
“No car. Just the dog. He saved you. Rest now.”
Sleep took me again.
Next awakening—clearer. Muffled voices nearby.
“Awake? Good. Captain Griffiths, police. Can you speak?”
I told him everything: stopping, the beating, my car’s plate.
“Your dog?”
“I don’t have a dog.”
“The driver who called the ambulance said a dog darted into the road, led him to you. Would’ve died otherwise.”
I signed something. Handed back the pen.
“What’s wrong with me?”
“Alive. That’s what matters. Two broken ribs, head injury, bruises.”
“Enough for today.” The doctor’s voice. Fatigue swallowed me whole.
Woke in darkness. Shadows danced on the ceiling. Nausea rolled in. Closed my eyes, remembered stopping, the attack.
Morning came. Sunlight, birdsong. Strength returning.
“Ready to sit up?” The bearded doctor helped me. “Easy now. Dizzy? Good. Feet down.”
The room steadied. Pale blue walls, a bedside table. Bandages constricted my chest, but the pain dulled.
“Next time, we’ll try standing.”
And I did. Walked to the window. Hospital grounds below—paths, benches.
“See? Under the tree. Your dog. Waits for you,” a nurse said.
“I don’t own a dog.”
“Thought he was yours. Won’t leave. We feed him—only eats when we’re gone.”
The dog sat, watching passers-by. Too weak to stay long, I returned to bed.
Next day, I stepped outside. The dog saw me but stayed put.
“You saved me. Cheers, mate.” I scratched between his ears. His tail thumped twice.
We sat on a bench, soaking up sun, until Captain Griffiths appeared. The dog skittered away but didn’t leave.
“Better, I see. Doesn’t trust coppers, eh?”
He questioned me again. “No leads on your car. Stolen, likely stripped. Need a ride?”
“Taxi, maybe. No cash—robbed.”
“Taking him, then? Good. Did some digging. Owner died overseas. Mum passed after. Dog’s alone. Taxi’s pricey—I’ll sort a car.”
We rode in the back of a patrol van, the driver chatting. “Whole town’s talking. Wish I had a dog like that.”
The dog stayed calm. I felt like a shadow basking in his spotlight.
Home at last. The flat smelled of roast beef.
“Come on, then,” I said, holding the door.
The dog hesitated. From the kitchen stepped Emma—floral apron, smile fading as she saw him.
“Who’s this?”
“Sun. He’s staying. With us.”
Emma paled, stepped back. Childhood fear—a stray bite, rabies shots.
“You did this on purpose,” she hissed.
“He saved my life. I couldn’t leave him—”
“Get him out!”
The dog moved aside. Emma edged past, never taking her eyes off him. Her heels clacked down the stairs.
I let her go.
The roast beef? Shared it with my saviour.
