Archive of Our Own

…Sometimes something would go wrong with the pregnancy and the puppies would be born too early, miscarried, an unclear blob of purple-red and blood-matted fur. Once, Liam was the first to find one, furless and wet, almost translucent in its unformed shape. There was a vague dog-shape there, little pink legs, a dark-purple umbilical cord reaching down from its open stomach. A row of ribs thinner than fish bones, and a skull not much bigger than his thumb. He shivered, rooted in his spot, and then ran to get his mum.

Mum’s new boyfriend, Thomas (why were all guys she dated called something along the lines of Tom, anyhow?) was a dog breeder who made his money selling the puppies his dogs had. He owned a couple of expensive-breed dogs, all girls, and they would take turns having litters of puppies, which were raised until they were running around on their own, and then families would come to their house, out in the garden or living room, ooh- and ah-ing over the fuzzy little puppies running around on uncertain paws. They’d take one or two home, press a wad of cash into mum’s boyfriend’s hand, and at the end of the day the house would be almost eerily silent, no pitter-patter of dogs playing, no yelps or whines.

Liam’s oldest brother Paul had moved out years ago. His other brother, Noel, tried his best not to be home at all, always sleeping ‘round at his girlfriend’s or a mate’s or whatever. Liam wanted to do the same but there really were finite options to hang out outside of school, especially with him still being a kid and all. He wasn’t even sure why he didn’t want to be home, really, it wasn’t that bad. It was fun when the puppies were there. The older dogs were sweet and gentle, especially his favourite, a soft cinnamon-coloured dog with long floppy ears and the sweetest darkest eyes. He’d go out to the garage where the kennels were and quietly open the cage door, allow her to walk out onto the exposed concrete and settle into his lap. She was sweet and silent and she must’ve had like a hundred puppies now, all just as cute as her.

Noel didn’t seem to care for the dogs too much, but that made sense since he was never around anymore, anyways. Liam tried not to be bitter about it, tried not to take it personally. Noel wasn’t trying to get away from him, he was trying to get away from mum’s new boyfriend. That was all. Thomas said Liam was his favourite of Peggy’s boys, always ruffling his hair or teaching him stuff about the dogs. Mum said it was because he’d never had kids of his own. She said he was nice, nothing like their da at all. Quieter. He didn’t drink as much, neither, didn’t scream and never slapped mum. Liam was happy enough. He knew they were lucky.

And yet, he noticed himself clinging to Noel and trying to stay away from home as much as he could. He’d beg Noel to pick him up after school (even though he was obviously old enough to go on his own), just so the two of them could take the longest possible way home and talk about all sorts of things. About whatever new Adidas shoes everyone was wearing, or what mates Noel was hanging out with nowadays and what he was doing. Noel was seemingly trying to get and subsequently be fired from as many jobs as possible at the moment, so he had plenty of free time to spend with Liam, climbing down the quarry’s edge and throwing pebbles at Liam’s classmates. When Noel wasn’t totally skint they’d go into town and eat bacon rolls and go window-shopping.

One of those days, Noel took him aside and asked him, in a kind of weird tone of voice, if everything was going alright at home. Liam looked at him (their faces at the same height now, he’d just had a growth spurt, thank you very much) like he’d grown a second head.

“What are you on about?”

“You– you know,” Noel wavered, seeming uncomfortable. “With mum’s new fella and all.”

Liam grinned widely, a bit of bread falling out of his mouth. He knew what this really was. Noel was being caring. Well, attempting to be caring, in his own way. Worried about their mum of course, but also worried about how Liam was doing now that he wasn’t around as much. Liam liked when Noel was sweet. Of course he knew Noel was always like that, he was just afraid others would catch him doing it, is all. But Liam knew. And he was always glad to catch a glimpse of it when it peeked out.

“S’fine,” Liam said, trying not to sound too excited. “Well, mum misses you something mad, obviously. Wants you to move back in. And… well, I like the dogs, me.”

He lagged behind a step or so to look in a shop window, staring at his own reflection through a sweater that was hanging behind it. “And Thomas?”

Liam shrugged uneasily. There wasn’t really that much to say, except sometimes when the guy looked him in the eye he’d get the strangest feeling in his stomach, like something bad was about to happen. But nothing actually ever happened. He’d just turn back to Peggy and start talking about some proper boring stuff like heating bills or puppy-related earnings, and Liam would run along to try and find some other kids his age outside to play football with. “Dunno.”

Mum was happy, giggling all the time and doing her makeup and all. Paul had fucked off, he was fine. The new fella never hit them, he was fine. Liam was fine. Why was Noel being all weird?

“You’re bein’ weird,” Liam said. Noel gave him a look, something between tiredness and disappointment, something Liam didn’t really understand. Liam tried to dart off to the next shop window, but Noel caught his hand before he had a chance to, pulled him back towards him.

“Noely?” Liam asked, trying to pull his hand free.

Noel didn’t say anything for a bit. Then, he suddenly released Liam’s hand, quick as if he’d been burned.

Liam was his little fucking angel of a brother and Noel was a terrible, terrible man. He’d left the kid back with his mum’s new boyfriend and there was something fucking off about that guy, Noel could just tell there was some sort of fucking glint in his beady little eyes whenever he looked at his kid, his Liam, and it wasn’t right. It was something Noel was sure of.

Because he looked at Liam the exact same way. It was a thought that kept him running away from home and hiding at his girlfriend’s place, that made him want to avoid Liam as much as possible, until he went mad with it and had to get back into the kid’s life. He’d pick him up from school (which already made him feel guilty enough) and go into town with him, doing anything to make the kid happy. Buying him stuff with money Noel definitely didn’t have.

Nothing ever happened, obviously. Nothing could ever happen. He never wanted anyone to hurt Liam, especially not himself. But this guy pissed him off. The man obviously only got with Peggy to get to Liam, bastard that he was. Tried to lure him in with sweets and puppies, only thing missing to complete the picture would be a drab white van or (he thought, bitterly) a cassock. He kept giving Liam all sorts of shite, toys and such, as if that wasn’t Noel’s thing. He couldn’t stand to be in the same room as the guy. You’re only mad cos I’m his favourite and you’re not, Liam’d said, somewhat petulantly, and Noel felt nauseous.

(There was a more latent feeling, too, of resentment towards their mum for letting this happen. Any of this. A feeling he wasn’t ready to develop, yet. Maybe he never would be.)

They walked home together, and Liam would prattle on and on about how the guy let him help when one of the dogs was giving birth, how he got to wrap the little things in towels and very carefully pat them, not too rough because they were still so little. About how they had to take the placenta away before the dogs ate it, because while in nature they’d usually eat it, it could also make them sick, according to Thomas, at least. So they had to take it away, a sort of mess of thick clotted blood, and then they’d compromise by giving the dog a raw egg at dinner, or whatever. Noel didn’t really give a fuck. They could be feeding cats to dogs and vice versa for all he cared.

What it came down to was that he didn’t like the idea of Liam sitting on their unfinished garage floor, on his bare little knees, helping a fifty-something year old man sort hand-sized puppies from hand-sized blood clots, quickly so the dogs didn’t eat fucking either of the two categories (which, according to Liam, wasn’t uncommon either). That was the exact vision that kept appearing to him– Liam-the-angel, his little brother, bare knees on the cold concrete, little hands covered in blood. Holding something so delicate he could kill it by squeezing, and he wouldn’t even have to squeeze very hard. Simultaneously, an older man’s front pressed against the back of ‘im, gut pressed against his shoulder blades, directing him what to grab and where to touch the entire blood-covered mess.

Sometimes they come out before they’re done, too, Liam had said. I found one once. It was all pink, ‘cos it didn’t have fur yet. And it was a bit tra– uh, you know, you could see through it. Could see the little ribs.

Liam wasn’t making eye contact with him. They’d been sitting on a bit of grass, chips cold and forgotten next to them. Liam wrapped his arms around his legs, wrapping himself up like a little package. Noel asked if he’d been scared, trying to heckle Liam a little and get him to stop looking around all uncomfortable-like.

Of course I weren’t scared. It was just that it was still breathing.

Liam had called for their mum, who had called for Thomas, and Thomas, saint that he was, took a brick and crushed the little animal’s half-formed skull.

It was a weird evening. Mum’s boyfriend had a few mates over, people Liam didn’t know. The air in the living room was thick with cigarette smoke and there was drinking, lots of it. Liam stayed upstairs, even tried to sleep, but it was no use, ‘cause the people downstairs were being loud as fuck and their walls might as well have been paper. After lying awake on top of his blankets for what seemed like hours, window open but still too hot, he decided to sneak down to the garage.

He tiptoed down the stairs and through the hall. The door to the living room was open, and just when he thought nobody had noticed him sneaking past he heard his name, yelled from the living room, a plume of smoke escaping into the hall.

“William! Come introduce yourself to my mates,” Thomas thundered, and Liam slinked into the room, back pressed against the doorframe. He was wearing boxers and a pyjama top that he noticed, now that he was in a room with lights, was actually one of Noel’s. There were a few men there, as well as Liam’s mum and another lady, laughing about something. She spotted him, delayed, and smiled. “What’re you doing out of bed, baby?”

“...wanted to go say hi to the dogs,” Liam mumbled. Why am I her baby, he also thought. Why now, when there’s so many people and she’s acting different. And they’re all laughing.

Liam didn’t move. His mum stuck her hand out at him, like she wanted him to come hold it, but he didn’t do anything. The people ‘round the table in front of the telly were all staring at him expectantly. One of them said something, bald feller with a beer in hand, and some other guy laughed, but Liam didn’t catch what he was saying. He took a step to the side, then back into the hallway, and ran the rest of the way to the garage door. Boisterous laughter, followed by Thomas’s he isn’t usually that shy.

Something was going on in one of the kennels. The first thing Liam noticed was the smell in the garage, the dank scent of copper mixed with whatever cold wetness kept the garage a few degrees colder than the rest of the house. Next was the whining, panting, almost asthmatic-like, shaking the metal shelves the dog cages were on. None of the dogs had names. Liam ran over in the dark, trying to find which dog was making the noise. His hand came back wet when he touched the floor in front of his favourite dog’s cage, the cocker spaniel with the soft ears. Liam was panting, too, wide eyed, skin crawling. She was going to have puppies.

He sprinted back into the hallway, a lot less scared to run into the living room this time. He ran right up to Thomas, paused a bit, got a grown man’s hand resting on his shoulder and one somewhat loosely ‘round his waist, landing on his hip.

“What’s wrong, kidda,” Thomas said, hands on Liam, and that was all wrong because that was what Noel called him, and everything was suddenly wrong, and his skin was itching and he was scared and he couldn’t breathe because of the smoke, and there was a dog having puppies. It was all too much, he couldn’t say it, so he tugged on Thomas’s hand, who swore when he felt the blood leaking between his fingers. Next thing Liam knew he was being lifted up, screaming as Thomas carried him over his shoulder to the garage, asking which dog was giving birth. Liam screamed, kicking his legs, and Thomas put him down on the ground, still holding onto his arm. Someone came in behind them and clicked the light on, the dingy bulb buzzing. The noise of drunken conversation followed them inside. Liam pointed at the cage, and Thomas opened the thing up, holding it up a bit slanted. The dog made another awful noise as she was dumped onto the cold floor. Liam screamed, something about how the floor wasn’t clean and she could get sick, but Thomas didn’t do anything, just took the cage outside to hose it down.

A hand briefly pressed against his shoulder, massive and warm. Liam’s whole back went rigid like a ruler and he clenched his shoulders as hard as he could until the hand went away. The light wasn’t very bright, so everything just looked like a big black spot getting bigger, the dog’s fur caked in drying blood, these sounds coming from her like she was in terrible amounts of pain. She didn’t even sound like a dog anymore.

A shiver went through the whole mess, and there was a noise, and someone cooing over a puppy. Every puppy came with its own placenta, a little sack of blood and other stuff that the puppy’s food went through before it was born. After the birth, the dog would sniff around for it and swallow it, gulping it down without chewing. It felt slimy and weird to touch, cold and filmy on the outside and inside-of-body warm just underneath the surface. Like touching something almost-alive. There were way too many people in the garage. One of them hollered for Thomas, said his boy was looking awfully pale. Round of laughter, Thomas’s hand under his chin, tilting it upwards. Another shudder through the almost-black blood, another puppy born from matted fur-blood-mess. Another wail, like a woman screaming.

More laughter. What can we do to make you feel better, Liam? said, mockingly. The laughter was getting too loud. The lamp was buzzing louder, too. There was blood on Liam’s hands. Mockingly, again, I know just what you need.

Eat it, Liam. You love her, don’t you? If it’s good for her, it’s good for you.

Liam tilting his head away, pressing his lips together, wailing. His mum’s boyfriend pulling his head straight with the hand on his chin. Another set of hands on his shoulders. Thick fingers against his lips, prying his mouth open, pulling his teeth apart. Forcing it so wide he felt the strain in his jaw.

Something being forced into his mouth, slimy and wet, yet also solid. Sliding down his throat, deeper and deeper despite his gagging. Taste of copper thick on his tongue, shaped like ovals and circles. A hand holding his nose closed. Swallow, being said. Lights dimming, room getting fuzzy. All the nutrients a dog needed after giving birth.

And then, the slimy thing was gone, and the hands let go of him. He’d swallowed it. Liam’s mouth tasted like copper. The people in the room were gathered around the dog, now, Liam’s favourite dog. Chatting about heating bills, and puppy-related earnings. Grown-up stuff. Liam had never felt this small, this inconsequential, even when he was actually little.

“She didn’t make it by the way,” Thomas said later, off-handedly. Like it was nothing. Like he didn’t know she was Liam’s favourite, like he hadn’t seen Liam pet her countless times, holding her on his lap. Like Liam hadn’t cried hot tears into her soft fur, like she hadn’t licked his face clean until he managed a giggle, despite everything.

Liam’s eyes went all unfocused-like. He squeezed his hands together again and again, until his fingers started to hurt. “Why?”

Thomas moved in a way that might’ve been a shrug, Liam wouldn’t know, as he wasn’t looking. “Might’ve been the blood loss. Or infection. Could be anything, really. Maybe her heart gave out. It’s strenuous, giving birth. She had a lot of puppies in her lifetime, Liam.”

He probably didn’t say it to be cruel, but Liam couldn’t help the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “But she only had that many puppies because you kept givin’ them to her.”

Thomas sighed, his patience wearing thin. Liam felt a wave of shame. He’d spoke too soon, said something he wasn’t supposed to say. Sometimes he could just tell when he’d said the wrong thing, but only after he’d already said it. “It’s what I do for a living. This is the way the world works. We can’t all be on the dole.”

Liam distantly wondered if that was meant to be a dig at Noel. The man crossed his arms, then let go again, shrugging. What he said next was said without any emotion evident, just a casual observation. “And of course, you did eat the one thing that’s supposed to be the healthiest for her. So maybe that’s why she died, lack of nutrition.”

It didn’t even entirely make sense (what had the thing with the raw egg been about, then?), which added a layer of humiliation to it all.

He left Liam on the floor, silent. Liam kneeled until his legs fell asleep, and then he laid down, cheek against the concrete, eyes glassy with tears. Liam the murderer, lying flat on the concrete like a little boy-corpse, with nobody noticing his absence, nobody noticing the way he traipsed up the stairs hours later, head pounding, half of his body freezing cold, the other half clammy with sweat. Nobody noticing how he curled up in his older brother’s bed and shivered until he fell asleep, and slept the whole afternoon away. Until he woke up, red string around his heart pulled taut, his brother being the one who woke him up.

Neither of them had to say anything. He pressed himself as tight as he could against Noel’s body, and Noel pressed back just as hard, sharp intake of breath. Noel’s hand in the curl at his nape, Noel’s dry lips pressed against his shoulder. Liam’s sobs against his brother’s chest. Spit, drool, snot on his shirt. And Noel, not saying a thing.

…And Liam had dogs all his life, after, pretty much. And he wasn’t always good with them, especially not in the beginning. Treated them like toys, accessories. Because at the time it felt like, similarly to how once you get raped you can never be clean again, you can’t really un-kill a dog. But he got better eventually. Clean as he could be, given the circumstances. Reborn, cosmic, on his best behaviour. The blood on Noel’s hands matched his own, but when they walked up on stage holding hands again, for the first time in years, Liam couldn’t feel it.