Rotaru[Ротару], Maksim[Максим]

Birth was simple. By simple I mean no equipment, no heart monitor, no doctors: just a house, a bed, a midwife and a worried father. His voice echoed through the entirety of the house evoking that missing feeling through its halls. His father was relieved; his mother was a live and joyous at her new child. Teasing his nose and making the common, assuring noises that all parents did. As if children were truly that supple. He grew to be an inquisitive child, keen for music since the moment of birth. His mother took advantage of this, beginning his piano studies as soon as his third birthday. How beautiful that occasion was, simple moments seemingly lasting forever as the clock continued to tick. His father grew somewhat jealous, fearing his child would become soft and a closer to his wife than himself. For that he took him under his wing as well, teaching him the trials of manhood, engaging him in martial art classes and sports, hoping for him to become strong and protect the family once he was of age.

They didn't have to try hard; he loved them for what they were; at least at that age when he didn't know any better. When he failed to realize that his father was not as gentle as he once assumed and his mother wasn't a nurturing as she let on. Adolescence took over. His hands were rough and yet smoothed from the combined acts of playing his piano and punching a tree. Things began to become more irritable. The feel of his room, constantly rearranged in order to have that needed space amongst the sides. The sound of his parent’s voices, their vibrations annoyed him so and at times he wished they could fail to speak. Of course it was never granted, aside from the time his mother caught a sickness and lost her voice, how wonderfully quiet that day was. Perhaps his parents caught onto this hint of his growing animosity. Maybe that was there thinking when they bought him the most important individual in his life. That fur-ridden, tongue-licking, tail wagging being that gave him a reason to continue living.

The dog was in his care; the feeding, bathing, training, everything. A dog to an O.C.D. person is like a German Sheppard to police academy. Every moment spent at home was with that dog. It was potty trained within the first few weeks. Taught to sit and lay down like any professional pet trainer. It was taught the concept of shaking then learned how to apply it to usages of knocking things off counters or retrieve objects of use. It kept Максим active. It forced him out of the house to run and exercise. To spend time at the local parks, local being a few miles to the park. He was happy, and in turn it kept his parents off his back. As long as he could spend time keep his grades high, and his prior engagements of piano playing and martial work to its peak; which he did, of course with his pooch sitting not too far away from him as he practiced; a few times even allowing the dog to strum upon the keys, to his mother’s ignorance.

Things were simple. For those six years of his pet, perhaps the best trained dog of the city, he rested quietly amongst himself happy and void of his parents peering eyes. They never gazed over his shoulder anymore, trying to invade his space like a cat to a mouse. Matter-of-fact, they were hardly in his life at all anymore. Maybe it was just because he failed to notice them having spent all his time with his dog, but during these years, he could hardly remember having a conversation with his father about the best ways to train or with his mother about Beethoven's lesser known compositions. It was if they were dead, but still breathing and comprehensive. It made him worry, oddly for the first time in awhile since child hood. At least about his parents anyway.

If he wouldn't have, things would have been better. He decided to consult his parents, waiting for them to return home like any lost little boy. They didn't, well at least not at the normal time. He took this assumption that they both went out to dinner, trying to rekindle some old flame they once lost, probably try to have another child, one that didn't ignore them. Максим laughed at the thought, called his dog over and leashed him, stepping out of the house and deciding to go for a run to formulate his thoughts about what he would talk to his parents about. What crap situation that was. For the moment he stepped out of his door, the day went wrong. He left his keys on the inside, locking the bottom lock before stepping out. That only meant he would have to wait until his parents returned home to get back inside the house. Not to bad, a good conversation starter. Deciding not to dwell on it he continued on his path to that local-not-so-local park out in the distance, keeping a pace for his aging dog to gather the common sights constantly seen but also put Max's heart to work like any good owner.

Stopping for a moment at one of those local strands strewn all about the city, he buys two water bottles and a cup of fresh ramen, burning his tongue and in result spilling some of the soup on his chest, only adding insult to injury. The day was getting worse by the minute, depressing. Finishing what was left of his soup, he walked away, pouring the bottle water slowly upon the ground letting the dog drink as much as it possibly could stalling its dehydration and used his own to soothe his burning tongue. Sighing, he continued on, eventually arriving at the park with little events in between, like stubbing his toe and failing to reply correctly to those who addressed him. Mostly female, seeing as how they are always so hard to talk to.

Sitting on a bench as soon as he could find one, he removed the leash from his dog, assuming that he could trust him as he always could. There was hardly anyone there to begin with, aside from the occasional animal made present by popping its head out of the ground, catching Max's eye each and every time. It was amusing for a tired day, the sun continually beating down on his being. It was nice, to just lay in the grass and rest, playing fetch only a few moments earlier. Sadly, he slept for too long, only waking up due to the loud barks of his companion, tugging at his shirt and urging him to get up. The sun was gone; the eerie darkness crept up far quicker than ever expected. There was nothing to be seen, the street lights failed to be replaced. The only thing there was the spirits left from a past, a boy and his dog. Quickly scooping himself up he looked around, unable to tell exactly where he had entered from, as the entire scenery had seemed to have warped since last viewed; although that was under different circumstances.

Having been to a park so many times, it was odd to forget the layout, even with darkness present. Sighing slightly his hand divulged into his pocket retrieving his cell phone. The battery was dead, mistake number three. He slapped himself on the forehead for having forgotten to charge it hours earlier. Things were just making themselves worse and worse. Assuming from his memory that he came from the western entrance, he headed in that direction, or at least that supposed direction, occasionally bumping into a park bench or some other random strewn object of annoyance, like a trash can. His feet crunched against the soft earth, his eyes scanning around looking for anything of familiarity. It was in that moment he failed to realize he was no longer accompanied, his own panic averting the fact that his dog was no longer with him. A terror struck his heart like no other, his body whipping around to find where his pet had gone.
Moving quickly he ran out, trying to retrace the blackened steps from memory, calling out for his dog with a custom whistle he devised for him. Reaching what he supposed was the old location, he felt around in the darkness, his legs cut from running into those dreaded park benches again. There was nothing, no sounds of his fur-friends blessed barks. All he could hear was the silence evoked from him. But as he began to give up, there was a sully crackling from behind, he turned around, hearing the hardened breathing of another man as well as what he assumed to be the jingling of a collar. His heart leapt, his body moving towards the jingling reassurance only to be halted by the hardened palm of the individual latched onto his family. The male's voice, deepened, rang out into his ear asking him what he was doing out so late. The boy innocently replied that he lost track of time and was just on his way out.

Deeply the man bellowed with laughter, finding it somewhat intriguing for people to be out so late, and let go of the boys dog, his fingers cracking as he did so. Gently the man grabbed K's shoulder, pointing him into the direction of which he told him was the exit. Nodding slightly, thanking him countless times, Максим quickly strode in that direction, making sure to keep his ears fine tuned to the jiggling, panting being running alongside him. But as he failed to notice, his dog skidding to a halt, he forgot about the bridge needed to be crossed, and stepped off the edge leading to the creek. Quickly he tumbled, hitting the rocks, tree bark and other things strewn upon his path, knocking him dazed until his body struck the cold water. The last things he heard were the caring barks of Max, possibly calling to see if he was okay until his body descended underwater, drowning him with her embrace and leaving his pet alone in the world.
In these fleeting moments, these moments where life swiftly recollected itself before his eyes, Niko began to realize what was happening. However, there was something odd to this occurrence. Something that made him scream within Death's arms bidding for her to watch the memories, the life. It wasn't his! At least, it didn't appear to be. Everything about it seemed savage, seemed feral. All he noted were trees. Harsh grunts of some beast possibly pursuing him, enticing the fear the flowed within his spectral essence. He felt the anxiety of watching himself bolt throughout the forest releasing feral cries of anguish that seemed too far from being his own voice. His mind cried, bid his body to stop. But it wouldn't. And in this moment, this moment of ensuing relinquishment, a claw seemed to pry him from the darkness of his slumber. A fierce howl escaped his bellows as he sunk into the darkness of his mind.

Niko's eyes jolted open, a fierce rush of blood and mildew engulfing his nostrils as he regained his senses. His head was screaming, eyes still struggling to gain focus. There was a sound of a waterfall, screaming in his ears forcing his body to curl. But as his eyes regained their vigor, he realized he was lying sprawled within the creek, a rock molded gently into his skull: the rock that surely had killed him. The sound of a waterfall crashed at his ears his mind screaming from release at such a concentrated torment. No matter how hard he tried, tried to drown out the sound it clawed through as if the water bored straight into his head. He wanted to know where it came from, what caused this.

However as he gained the control of his body once more, the revelation of his location increasingly confused his mind. He was in the creek, just under the bridge, unknown for how long he had been there. The water surged gently beside him, yet sounded as if he were under a jet basin. Why was it so clear? Why was it so deafening? Did the fall upon the rock alter the chemistry of his brain? Did he have a tumor? As he felt alone the ridges of where he lied upon the rock, feeling the cold expanse of blood across his face, he found no wound. No lacerations, no contusions or bruises. It was as if, the entire course never happened: even if the evidence of his death lies encoded upon the stones beneath his breath. In the moment of his ignorance, a familiar whimper erected from the screams of his unsure predicament, snapping his mind back into reality.

"Are you okay, Niko?" These words fell ridden with the familiarity of family love. His body resulted in spring action launching off the creek floor to gaze around at the area, looking for the bearer of this voice. But all he found was his husky, oddly larger then he had last remembered. Clearly he was suffering from a concussion or some form of brain damage. There was no possible way, after all, that his dog could speak in a familiar language. No matter how much he longed for it.

"Since you got up, you must be okay." The voice said once more, Max's eyes eagerly staring into Niko's as he gazed back rather confused. His dog really was talking to him...the result of the crash clearly resulting in trauma induced insanity.

Trying to rationalize this, he avoided replying to the voice until fully realizing that he was still alive and that he was not in a coma or in heaven or whatever manifestation evoked by man's mind. Tiredly, his hand stretched to wipe the dirt, water and other material from his face. Shockingly, as it retracted, Niko's eyes widened at the revelation of a full set of jaw marks strewn upon his left forearm, marked by a silver shine as if laced with Mercury upon their finalization.

"I was bit?" He thought out loud, pulling his hair back from his eyes.

"Yes." The voice replied quickly preceded by the overtly large Husky licking the boy's wounds. His tongue hot and yet soothing upon the irritated flesh.

What the heck was going on...And why did it have to go on at a day such as this. Ignorantly asking himself this question, he gazed up, trying to assess his location. It was still dark, darker then he last remembered which could only mean that time had only sunk farther into the night perhaps a few hours before dawn. Great...His parents must of been horrified at their child's disappearance. Or did they even notice he was gone? Probably, they never seemed to notice his existence lately anyway. He couldn't worry about this at the moment, not now. All he wanted to do, was get home or to a hospital. No. Home is where he wanted to be. It would be weird to come into a hospital with no wounds, or so he had assumed.

It was odd, his body wasn't in pain despite the obvious signs of blood...It was his blood wasn't it? His body climbed up the hill with enhanced vigor, extremely odd for someone who just hit rock bottom, literally. Escaping this fact, he had an heightened sense of awareness creeping within his senses. He could feel the subtle fluctuations of temperature. He could still hear the waterfall-like flow of the water shifting in the creek below. He could accurately smell the scent of wilting flowers and mildew in the distance. His eyes, focused in the dark somehow expanding his vision far beyond what he could normally recall. He must be dreaming...

"You're not dreaming. And if you're going to keep ignoring me, I might have to bite you again." The voice crept up. Instantly Niko's eyes averted to his canine, Max's fangs bared eagerly as if posed to strike. "You really are talking to me, aren't you?" Niko inquired softly, squatting down Max's level to receive the truth from the beast's eyes. All he received was a nod only reassuring his plea for insanity.

"Stop thinking you're insane or one day you'll become that way." Max said, more playful in his tone. It was less awkward this time. It is rather amusing how fast one adapts to something so extreme when he should have been bolting for the hills from such a revelation. Instead, he was very much relieved. There was now actually someone to talk to, even if it might have just been a manifestation of his mind. Although at the present moment it seemed to be far from that, especially from the familiarity and movements gathered from the voice and his pet, almost linked in synchronization.