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There is a special place in hell for when a relationship goes down the toilet. I knew it well, my own personal circle of the damned; and it was usually my fault. As it was this time, again, when my inadequacies overwhelmed everything else like they always did. The tipping point was usually when they started calling me on my shit.

It started the usual way. My girl Leesa came home from work, to find me still hanging around in my tracksuit and t-shirt. I hadn't slept, again, for the fifth night in a row, and though I wanted to go for a jog it somehow never happened. Instead I sat on the sofa curled up in a ball with my mind scrambled.

Ever since...well, I wasn't good before. But ever since last Saturday night, I couldn't hold it together anymore. Like a pressure vessel tested beyond its limits, I had fractured into a million pieces that scattered across the wasteland of my life. Now the piper had come a calling.

"Did you put in any more job applications today?" the rabbit started in aggressively almost immediately. I could see the hurt and the worry and the pain in her eyes, but mostly I heard the frustration in her voice and the sense of giving up.

"No, I just...no..."

"Danny...what the hell...you said you would."

"I didn't find anything really."

"We are broke Danny. You haven't worked in months, the bills are all unpaid, and I'm keeping us together with my fingernails. You haven't even washed the fucking dishes!"

"I'm sorry, really, I'll do better..."

"What's going on Danny? You've been so far away this last week, I can't even find you anymore. Please help me out!"

I just curled in that ball again, until she sighed and walked away. We didn't talk all evening, even when her favourite show came on, and she always liked talking about it. Nothing doing tonight though, and I headed for bed to try to find some sleep again but it wouldn't come.

When she joined me, there was a distance, a familiar coldness now but worse than before. She turned away, back presented as a wall to keep out the worthless hoss who was driving her to distraction, and when I reached for her she jerked away. I didn't even want sex, God knows we hadn't done it for a while and I was kind of grateful. On this much Citalopram, I couldn't even cum and I had gotten used to faking orgasms after trying to make her happy and then giving up and just wanting it over. Neither of us enjoyed it any more. But even some physical contact would be welcome, as I had learned over the years. I wished I didn't need it but I found I couldn't do without it.

I lay there watching her relax slowly until the soft rhythm of her breathing and the gentle snores told me she was asleep, and the twitch of her white ears stopped and I could just barely stroke them with a fingerhoof without her waking up. I loved that feel, the touch of her soft fur there, just barely recognisable. I rubbed her ears for a few minutes, banking the sensation to last me through the next part, and then I managed to slip out of the bed as quietly as a tall equine can and headed for the cupboard.

It was still there, and during the day I had packed it again. My one true skill I guess, travelling light. It was time; well beyond time, really, I had done her no good for so long until even the small spark we had flickered and died. She would be better off.

My familiar companion, I almost smiled as I hefted it. One of only three constants in my life, along with the nightmares and...Clay. The name hurt, a special hurt.

A battered old Nike sports bag, now ten years old and showing it. My life in a bag, as it had been since I ended up in foster care the first time, always packed and ready to move on. In ten years I hadn't properly unpacked it, never trusting that where I was would last. Old habits die hard, especially when they are part of your survival routine.

This time felt different though. I knew it when I left my phone behind and some things I would miss. My watch, a gift from Leesa, and the necklace she gave me for my 21st birthday. It was time, though I didn't know quite what the end would be. I left them beside the bed and gave her a soft kiss on the ears and turned to go. When I got in my car it was 2 am, and the city was passing quiet on this Tuesday night, with the moon glowing like a big watchful eye and the air felt crisp and fresh. Perfect for a jog on the beach; I shuddered at that too.

Memory is a strange thing. When you feel good, only the good ones come. When you feel bad, only the worst. I drove past the old beach for reasons I didn't understand, remembering all the bad self-destructive shit, then kept on driving, navigating on instinct as the lights flashed past and I didn't really register them. Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself on the Hume, heading North.

A road sign loomed in green. Sydney 873. There were worse ideas I guessed; one last long drive. It was a sort of rite of passage the old Melbourne to Sydney drive, though the Hume was as boring as batshit for most of the way. Plenty of time for memories though, and a long way from anyone who gave a fuck by the end. I pulled into the fast lane and set my speed just a tick under 115 and dodged the B-doubles over the plains.

And then?

Well, and then. The radio would keep me company until then.

Moving like the fog on the Cumberland River I was leaving on the Delta Queen And I wasn't ready to go I'm never ready to go

I almost turned it off when the guitar introduction started. Of all the songs, why did it have to be one I associated so strongly with him? As the first verse began though, I found I was laughing and singing anyway, as we used to do together.

27 years of nothing but failures and promises that I couldn't keep Oh lord, I wasn't ready to go I'm never ready to go Let it ride Let it ride easy down the road Let it ride Let it take away all of the darkness Let it ride

27 years always sounded such a long long time, like really old when we sang it together. Now I wouldn't even manage that.

Let it rock me in the arms of stranger's angels until it brings me home Let it ride Let it roll Let it go

If only I could let things go. Instead as Ryan Adams came to me through the speakers and the tarmac stretched out into the North as I passed Donnybrook, I remembered. The first time I really knew him, and knew what I was. Another Tuesday, a long time ago

*****

9 years ago

_ _

"Worthless colt..."

I cannot move, my eyes closed over with bruising, the sharp tang of blood in my muzzle. Pain is everywhere, my back covered in agony, my head swimming. I can still hear him though; feel, taste, smell. He has the smell again, when he has taken too much of the stuff. I knew it before I tried to fight him off. Stupid.

"Fucking little shit..."

Another scream. My wrist feels broken now. Warmth, and an acrid smell, and I wet the bed. He doesn't seem to notice though.

"I'll show you you fucker..."

A new pain, burning, inside me. Him. He is inside me, over me, and the pain is incredible. Another scream, a new one, on and on...

"Hey, Danny, wake up!"

A dark figure loomed above me and I reached out to try and fight it off, fingers circling his neck. Eyes went wide, blue eyes. Blue...

"You're...not him..."

The husky dropped to the bed, massaging a sore neck and grinning.

"No, and thank fuck. I'd hate to be him when you meet him kiddo..."

"Why are you here?"

I look at the clock. Five a.m....better than most nights.

"Why the fuck do you think? My room is next to yours remember?"

I hadn't counted on that, and it troubled me. I didn't want to think what he might have heard, what I sounded like. What I might reveal.

"I'm sorry...I...I'll try to be quiet and..."

"Save it hoss, I don't mind too much. Just, you have to get it together, you know? Otherwise, they'll eat you alive."

He didn't really say who "they" were, but I could guess. The general "they"...our fellow inmates, school, everyone. At least Clay would know. He was like me.

"I'll be ok."

"The fuck you will...here, let me stay a bit."

The husky knelt on my bed, reaching over my body to the window. The ancient sash groaned a little, before sliding reluctantly upwards, letting in the crisp night air and the sounds of the garden. Birds, already anticipating the sunrise, and a pair of possums having a grunting match in the spotted gum next door.

The reason for the open window became clear, as my new buddy settled in beside me and pulled out a box of cigarettes and a lighter. He proceeded to light up and take a long satisfying drag, before offering me the lit cig. I declined, and he shrugged before returning to the task, as if to say, no skin off my snout mate.

He was wearing a pair of tattered grey boxers, an ancient T-shirt that once was white but now looked kind of grey too, and a red bandanna, carefully wrapped around his left wrist. He always had the bandanna. I was curious about it from the moment I entered the group home, but I hadn't yet built up the courage to speak to anyone. I figured now, what the heck.

"What's this for mate?"

He looked startled, as if he hadn't realised he was wearing it, and covered it with a paw self-consciously before grinning sheepishly at me.

"Kind of good luck charm mate. It's my Dad's, he gave it to me before he went inside. Said he needed me to look after it for him."

"Inside?"

"Yeah, inside. The joint, the big house? Prison? How fucking naïve are you pony, geezus."

He took a long drag on the cig, and I coughed a little as a cloud of smoke enveloped my head.

"Is your old man inside too? That why you're here?"

"No...no...Dad...he died..."

"Awww fuck, sorry mate. That why you're here?"

In a way it was. It seemed the start of it I guess, when it all went wrong. Then Mum went to shit, then her boyfriends, then....Him...

"worthless colt..."

"Hey, sorry, I should know better I guess than to ask."

"No, it's ok."

He lay beside me, facing the ceiling, and I looked him over. He was good looking, Clay, I had noticed it before. And hated myself for noticing...

I am not like that. Its only because of what He did to me...if I ignore it, it will go away.

And yet I looked at the calm face of my husky friend, and felt something stir inside anyway.

He reached over to take my hand, his paw closing on mine, gripping tight. Just there, no words, just there was all. I felt special I guess, and warm inside. It didn't last though.

"Ahh mate, did you, well..."

"What?"

"Um, mate, I can smell, and it's kind of damp here, and..."

Fuck. I hadn't just wet the bed in my dream, I'd done it for real. Fuck.

"Oh fuck, it never happens, honest..."

"Shh, don't worry mate. Let me help."

We stripped the bed together, the husky leading me into the shared laundry and dumping the bedclothes into the washing machine before finding a new set in the cupboard. I followed him back to my room, too ashamed to talk. He didn't say a word; sometimes the ultimate kindness is silence.

We took up our positions again, avoiding the small wet patch on the mattress, my husky still staring at the ceiling blowing smoke rings to the sky, me curled up a ball of colt misery. He held my hand, and I squeezed back, and we lay there and somehow I drifted off without meaning to, my husky keeping watch.

*****

When I woke, it was already late. Clay had gone, but there was still a warm spot on the bed where he had been. I trotted out into the kitchen to find the other guys already well into breakfast.

"Here he is, our resident psycho. Thanks for nothing cunt."

"Ease up on him Jim."

The angry looking bull was lathering margarine onto a mammoth pile of toast, while he glared at me over its peak. Beside him, the more conciliatory Trevor, a reed-thin Greyhound, tried to calm the bull while sneaking a round of toast from his plate.

"Hey!"

It looked like battle was about to start when the lumbering bulk of our lead resident Marty came through the door and gripped Jim by the horns before he could do what he planned to do to Trev.

"Enough! Jim, Trevor, what have I told you?"

The big guy was a serious bulky bear at 32 years of age, and though Jim had a lot of anger, he didn't have the strength yet to break free at 16. The bear intimidated me completely, there was no way I was going to cross him. Jim calmed down, though reluctantly, and mumbled apologies while we all got back to breakfast. He was still mumbling when the last guys came through to make sandwiches to take to school for lunch.

"Why do we have to put up with that dipshit pony and his stupid night terrors anyway?"

The question was addressed to no one in particular, and Jim didn't even look at me when he said it, but everyone looked at me after he said it.

"James, would you like me to catalogue all your little problems too?"

The bear was all sweetness and light, and I couldn't resist laughing at the scowl on Jim's muzzle. He looked at me then, with a look of pure menace. I gulped.

The husky came to my rescue. "Jimbo, he is having some problems. He's new to this; even you had problems when you started. I remember you crying and..."

"Enough!" Now the bull was embarrassed.

"All of you. Can it and get ready for school. If I have to kick your asses out there will be no TV, nothing tonight. Now move it!"

A chorus of groans greeted that little threat and everyone became a perpetual motion fur, banging around the kitchen before heading to their rooms to make more demonstrative noise as they got their bags ready. I fell in beside Clay as we headed for our rooms down the end of the left corridor off the kitchen, but the bear stopped us.

"So guys...what were you up to at 5 o'clock this morning?"

"Ahhh...laundry Mr C. Needed to do some laundry urgently...after all, I don't want to smell as bad as Jimbo, that bull smells like a..."

"...enough Clay. I get the picture...anything you want to add Danny?"

"No..."

"Hmm...well, maybe we need to have a word about your early morning laundry with Ms Chew. She is coming round tonight for a review meeting."

I gulped at that. My caseworker, an overworked and overstressed badger lady with a permanent lisp. She meant well, but she was mostly clueless I thought. I liked it that way; what she didn't know, I didn't have to deal with.

"Yes. So make sure you are back here on time. No late night in the gym or whatever it is you actually do. Back by 4:30 on the dot. No exceptions."

I shook my head, prepared to disobey as always. I would find some excuse, any excuse. It wasn't that I hated her, it was just her mere presence reminded me of everything that had gone wrong, and she never had any good news to give me. Mainly because there wasn't any to give.

I got a pat on the back from Clay, one that graduated to a slap on the ass. It felt good; too good. I looked over to see him grinning mischievously as he headed out the door, and we split at the street to head our separate ways. My school was a bus ride away, and I made the trip in silence hugging my small black no name backpack to my chest. Enough room for a couple of books and a set of basic training gear. I knew what my evening would bring and it wouldn't be Ms Chew.

Sleepwalking through the day at school had become an artform. I could bury my muzzle in the year 8 maths text or our English text and appear engrossed and avoid any conversation. That suited me to the ground. Since the day...since Him...and the morning I woke up in hospital in more pain than I could take, I had moved school and started again. Nobody would know, nobody would guess what had happened, what had been...what a worthless thing I had become. I was just another foster kid, another waste of space, but that was ok. As long as nobody knew the rest.

That meant never talking, never revealing, and never getting undressed in public. Too many physical scars to avoid questions. That was why the night terrors worried me so much; someone might hear, and put it all together. Maybe it was simple; just never sleep.

"Daniel. Daniel!"

"Wha...?"

"Daniel Lawrence, please read chapter 5 for us. When you are awake..."

The laughter made me feel about an inch tall, and I scrabbled at my book. Sun on the Stubble. God I hated Colin Thiele.

I went to read, the words sort of blurring as I fought to stay awake. To my horror, what came out though was a mess of stuttering and I gave up, sinking into a silent morass of shame with my muzzle buried in the book. Our teacher swallowed loudly, and called on another student instead. I was grateful.

When the day ended finally, I ran to my locker and got out the bag. As always, I could feel at home in the gym, the only place I did. Just me and the weights; and the run down dilapidated weights room would be empty.

It hurt. It always hurt, but I kept pushing on. Hurt was good. Hurt felt...liberating, almost perversely pleasurable. I couldn't think of anything else when I hurt, and that was good, so good, because all the other shit dissolved and I could focus on the pain. So much was fucked up inside me, including this, and I didn't stop even when my chest and biceps screamed enough. One more set.

In my mind the plan was simple. I was big, already at 13 way too tall and broad in the hips and shoulders, but thin like a rake. I would get huge. Then nobody would fuck with me. Nobody could hurt me. And if I ever saw Him in front of me, I would smash a hoof into his guts until he went down, and then I would smash his skull over and over and over until he begged and I would keep going until he couldn't beg any more...

"Slow down!"

I realised I was almost on the point of cramping, the weights above my chest and pressing down onto ribs as I fought for breath. Somewhere I had lost it thinking of Him...and almost tripped into another one of those moments, where I could taste Him, smell Him, feel Him inside me again like it was happening right there, even sitting at my desk supposedly learning maths. Over and over and over; always the same. Like the nightmares.

"What are you doing, trying to kill yourself Lawrence?"

It was Mr Stone, or Stoney to us out of earshot. An oversized and defeated Labrador with a bad back, now relegated to teaching P.E. to reluctant kids in a dead end school.

I realised he was waiting for an answer. I also realised he knew my name.

"Just doing some training sir..."

"Bullshit. I know all you guys want to get ripped as quick as possible but this aint the way. Not on the roids are you Lawrence?"

"No..."

"Good. You could be something Lawrence, you know that. If you did it right. You have the frame for it, more than I ever did."

Something? No, never something.

"I will make you a deal, Lawrence. I should ban you from the weights room, but I won't, as long as you promise to only come when I can supervise you. And you will stick to the programme I give you. Deal?"

I looked up into his eyes. They were almost kind, and I hated that. But I nodded, slowly, and he nodded back.

"Good. Let's start with the right way to do this shall we? I'm glad you are using free weights at least, and full extension. All you stupid kids want is big tits (pardon me) and ripped arms and you end up shortening your muscles using the machines and end up looking like cartoon characters. If you keep doing it this way, you should keep your flexibility. And your proportions. Now...lets pull the weights down a bit, and do more reps."

He effortlessly hauled the weights around, then stood over me gently holding the bar.

"Right, when you're ready Lawrence. I want ten...let's go."

I managed, fairly easily, though I was sweating by the end. When the tenth was done, he helped me slot the weight into the brackets, then looked at his stopwatch.

"Right...now, again. Another ten..."

I felt it this time, the burn, not the same pain, I was disappointed to see. When he helped me this time I almost snatched the bar away, wanting to chase the feeling again. He growled, a warning, and I let go.

"Lawrence...do I need to ban you after all?"

"No Sir..."

"Good. Right, in sixty seconds, a final set. Are you ready?"

I didn't answer, just holding the bar and blowing my sweaty forelock out of my eyes. When it was time, I closed my eyes and went for it. I wanted it to hurt again, and I reached inside for the strength that would make me able to go harder. The strength that came from hate. The voice; the voice inside that screamed at me all the fucking time. At least I would put it to use.

"Useless...fucking...worthless...fucking...piece of shit...hopeless...garbage...waste of life...pathetic....loser!"

I was shaking as paws yanked the bar out of my grip and onto the bar, panting for breath as the burn now took over my shoulders. It felt good again, but I realised to my horror that Stoney was staring at me.

"Lawrence...the hell..."

"Sir?"

"Lawrence...just how screwed up are you?"

I realised I had yelled it out loud, not just in my head, punctuating each new lift with a deep roar of hate. The Labrador was staring like I was a mad thing, and I took a towel and wiped off the bench and trotted into the change room to stretch and shower to avoid the questions. He didn't follow.

In the shower stall, I let the hot water sooth my aching muscles, and closed my eyes as my mane flopped over my face. For some reason, all I could think of was Clay, in his grotty T-shirt and boxers. It didn't matter, he still seemed totally hot to me...hot...

My hand felt for my groin, cupping my sheath and giving a single stroke. My cock shot out hard, and I let out a long groan at the feeling.

"Clay..."

In my mind, he got into bed with me, but instead of holding my hand, he cuddled me, body to body. I writhed under the water at the imagined sensations of being actually held by another guy; the delicious fantasy of physical contact that wasn't pain. In my mind, he rubbed against me, holding me, touching me...

"Ohhh God..."

I came, spraying horse cum all over the place. I wanted it to continue, and I wanted the ground to swallow me up. Imagining another guy touching me, and I came like a firecracker with no warning. This cannot be.

It's not real. Ignore it. Don't let Him win.

I remembered his words.

"You like this you little perv. You were made for a guy's cock, I'm just giving you what you want. Now stop crying..."

"No!"

I turned the water off, drying off roughly before I headed out into the gym again. Mr Stone was waiting.

"Lawrence..."

"I'm sorry Sir..."

"Lawrence. Here is your programme...remember our deal."

I reached for the paper, taking it in my fingers. I dared to look in his eyes. They were troubled, but something else too.

"Lawrence. I know...well, you lot probably hear me say it enough times, 'I'm watching you'. Normally it's a threat, or a warning. I know...nobody takes me seriously."

"Sir?"

"Well, I just wanted to say. I'm watching you Lawrence. But not that way. I'm looking out for you, ok?"

The paper scrunched up in my hand. I wasn't going to cry. I hadn't cried then, I hadn't cried since. I would never cry, ever fucking again.

He went to ruffle my mane but pulled back at the last second.

"Thursday after school. Be here."

I was too upset to realise I was earlier than I wanted to be. It was only 5:15 when I arrived back at the group home, and I recognised the battered Honda out the front a fraction too late. The door opened, and Ms Chew was standing there, along with Marty. I couldn't bolt now.

"Nice of you to join us Daniel. Now, let's head for the study."

I dropped my head and followed, cursing under my breath. The study was a small room kept for the use of the Lead Resident. It housed his departmental files, and a small desk, and some chairs. I took one, along with the bear and the badger. A nice convivial little conversational group.

"Let's start with a talk about your lack of respect Daniel..."

The bear was fuming, and I matched his stare with my own, no longer caring if he powerdrove me through a wall. Our staring contest was interrupted by a cough from Ms Chew, who gave the bear a significant look.

"Perhaps another time Mr Claydon. Danny, we have some good news."

"You never have good news."

"Danny!" the bear growled.

"Enough Martin. Yes Danny, good news. I managed to find you a placement."

I was too shocked to remain in my cynical shell, now open eyed and staring.

"A...placement..."

"Yes Danny. With a lady in Preston. She is an experienced carer, and I managed to persuade her to take you on. We will have to monitor your progress..." she hastily qualified, but I didn't care. Someone wanted me. Someone actually wanted me.

I remembered being in the hospital, when I could get over the pain enough to ask for my Mum. I needed her, no matter what she or her boyfriend had done. The look on the nurse's face was my first hint of the greater pain to come. She tried to look so reassuring, all the while trying not to say the thing she had to say. Mum wasn't coming, whether she was allowed or not. She didn't want to come. The nurse didn't know how to say it, any more than the cops or the drone from Community Services.

Even Ms Chew didn't know how to say it, delighting in prevarications and mumbo jumbo. But I worked it out, eventually. Over the months, the numbing reality had set in.

Now it looked like someone actually saw me as something other than an unwanted obligation. I almost could kiss the homely badger. Instead I smiled. That brought its own disturbing result.

Marty actually smiled, and tried to hide it, but I caught his grin.

"See, I told you to be here tonight Daniel."

I was still on cloud nine when I went into the dining room after the meeting and sat down to eat. Trev and Jim had been on cooking duty, so it wasn't going to be much. Still it was food, and I would have a real home again soon. It seemed that word of my good fortune had filtered through to the others though, and I suddenly felt more alone.

The trouble flared after dinner. I was heading for my room when the bull charged my shoulder and slammed me into a wall. I was feeling strong though, even though my muscles still ached, and I managed to get into a wrestle and slam him back into the wall and grab a horn before we were split up by the others and Marty was shouting and Clay was holding me back.

"It's not fucking fair! I've been here for two years, and this little shit gets a free ride! It's not fucking fair!"

"James! Quiet! Your turn will come!"

"No it fucking wont. I'm 16, if it hasn't happened by now it never will and you know it, stop fucking lying, you always fucking lie!"

The bull slid slowly down the wall until he was sitting against it and yelling. He wasn't even crying, just howling out obscenities. Trev and Marty and Clay managed to get him back to his room, and I couldn't handle it any longer so I headed for my own and slammed the door with the bull's insults ringing in my ears.

I couldn't tell how long it took, but eventually there was a knock at the door, and when I opened it, I saw the husky waiting patiently. I motioned for him to enter, and headed for my bed. He took up the same spot he had last night, and I reached up to slide the window open. He managed a smile then, and pulled out his cigs and lighter.

"So...looks like you're abandoning me then hoss."

"I'm sorry..."

"Nah, don't worry. I'd give my left nut to have somewhere to go other than this poxy hole, I'm just jealous. So is that stupid beefy idiot..."

"What has Jim got against me?"

"He hates everyone hoss. His dad used him as a punching bag, and then blew his own brains out. He hates everyone...don't take it personal."

It was strange, but I had never asked before about the bull's background. You didn't, in a home. Now I knew, and it made me feel even worse.

We lay there for a while, sharing company but not speaking, before Clay slipped out his iPod. He offered an earphone, and dialled up his current favourites. After some ones I didn't recognise, I heard the twang of a metal guitar and a Country American drawl.

Moving like the fog on the Cumberland River I was leaving on the Delta Queen And I wasn't ready to go I'm never ready to go

To my surprise, the husky began to sing along, his light voice matching perfectly to the song, complete with all the longing and the pain. He was good.

"I never knew you could sing."

"Shh...don't interrupt!"

27 years of nothing but failures and promises that I couldn't keep Oh lord, I wasn't ready to go I'm never ready to go Let it ride Let it ride easy down the road Let it ride Let it take away all of the darkness Let it ride

I waited till the song was over and he had gone back to puffing hard on his cigarette.

"Clay...have you ever had a chance to get out?"

He looked at me with a crooked smile.

"There's getting out and getting out Danny. The answer is maybe."

"So why didn't you?"

"Maybe I wasn't ready to go!"

He blew a smoke ring and grinned, and triggered the song again.

"I'm going to miss you hoss. A lot. Now, so help me God, don't you dare fuck this up, and if I see you back here I swear I am going to beat the shit out of you."

I grinned back, even though I knew he meant it. That was how it was around Clay, I loved him more when he was threatening to kill me it seemed.

"Now sing along you glue factory reject!"

27 years of nothing but failures and promises that I couldn't keep Oh lord, I wasn't ready to go I'm never ready to go Let it ride Let it ride easy down the road Let it ride Let it take away all of the darkness Let it ride

*****

The song had long since ended when I pulled into the truck stop at Violet Town and killed the ignition. I just sat in the car for a while, lined up with the pump. I needed a full tank to make Sydney, and I had just about enough cash for that and not much else. My account had long since emptied. My stomach grumbled menacingly though, and I looked at the enticing light of the Roadside diner.

There was a large collection of trucks in the parking area, as there usually was here. It was one of the more popular stopping points on the Hume. I shrugged internally, and opened the door, pulling my collar around my neck to keep out the chill early morning air.

Where there was a will there was a way, another of the talents I had learned in years in the system, and beyond. I had long ago lost the last of my inhibitions, and now it scarcely mattered anyway. All I wanted was enough for some food to last me until Sydney and...

I headed for the toilet behind the Roadhouse, with a pen and a post it note, still humming Ryan Adams as my hooves echoed on the concrete.

Let it rock me in the arms of stranger's angels until it brings me home Let it ride Let it roll Let it go