Going Feral
My son’s horrified scream echoed from downstairs at eight o’clock at night.
Meanwhile, a message popped up in a group chat for the apartment building’s residents.
“Silas, does your son even have a heart? He won’t even play with my girl.”
I froze, recalling that the neighbor didn’t have a child.
The next second, the neighbor sent a video.
The footage showed a vicious Doberman lunging toward me to attack Ethan.
It was bad enough that the neighbor didn’t stop the attack, but he even stood there, applauding.
“Good girl. You’re amazing. You’ve got a big boy crying already.
As Ethan was tackled to the floor, I shook in rage.
Since the neighbor loved playing games, I’d show him a thing or two.
I raced to the kitchen and grabbed the knife before charging to the scene.