1. The Fall
The autumn sun spilled gold across Blackwood Cliff, its light catching on the jagged rocks below like shards of glass. The air smelled of pine and danger.
Tyler’s Italian loafers crunched against gravel as he wheeled his mother toward the edge. The wind lifted her shawl — a fragile wisp of fabric against the cold, sharp world. Margaret looked up at her son, her eyes clouded with both love and suspicion.
“Tyler,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Why are we here?”
He smiled, too calm. “I just thought you’d like the view, Mother.”
His tone was soft, almost affectionate — the kind of tone that hides a storm beneath.
She nodded weakly. “It’s beautiful,” she said, though her heart told her otherwise. Something about his hand on the wheelchair handle felt wrong. Too firm. Too deliberate.
Then he leaned close, his breath brushing her ear.
“You’ve had your time, Mother. It’s my turn now.”
Before she could react — before she could even scream his name — he shoved.
The chair lurched. Wheels spun. The world tilted. Her scream tore through the valley — a sound so raw it made the crows take flight. Then, silence. Only the wind and the echo of betrayal.
Tyler stood there, chest heaving, watching the wheelchair vanish into the abyss. A sick thrill ran through him. “Finally,” he muttered, straightening his suit jacket. “No more lectures. No more guilt.”
He turned to leave… but then came the growl.
Low. Deep. Primal.
He froze.
From behind the trees, a massive German Shepherd stepped into the light — fur bristling, amber eyes blazing like fire. Rex. His mother’s dog. The one he’d always hated.
And now, the one thing he hadn’t planned for.
2. The Witness
Rex had seen everything.
Every shove, every cruel smile, every second of that monstrous act.
He lowered his body, muscles rippling under his coat, growl deepening with each heartbeat. Tyler tried to back away, raising his hands as if to reason with the animal.
“Easy, boy,” he said, voice trembling despite himself. “It’s… it’s over now.”
But Rex wasn’t listening. The moment Tyler moved, Rex lunged — a blur of muscle and fury. The impact sent Tyler sprawling, his expensive watch snapping against the rocks.
“Get off me!” he shouted, but Rex pinned him down, teeth bared inches from his throat. The dog’s hot breath was a warning — I saw you.
Tyler’s mind raced. He grabbed a stone, swung wildly. Rex yelped, stumbling back — but only for a second. Then, from the cliff’s edge, came a faint cry.
A voice.
“Rex!”
Tyler’s blood turned to ice.
