One of the many emotions a living creature is born with, but that slowly develops with the passing of the years. Well, I learned how to hate from a very young age. Hate towards everything, the people who used to walk by me, my long-gone parents, the place where I used to live, and, in almost every aspect, me.

Me, for not being capable enough to have done things that a normal canine could have, for not having what everybody is supposed to have.

And here's where my story begins.

The very first thing I can remember was a small box. Not even the dirty street where I spent most of my young days or the terrible smell that used to produce the sea.

That little Cardboard box stamped with the 'Fragile' announce on parallel sides was the only thing closest to what I could call A Home. My fur, completely stained with the dark brown colour of mud and the black-green shades of mould.

Every day used to pass by so slow, it was like counting every second from every minute. And I only had, if I was lucky enough, one meal. Maybe a pizza that a kid accidentally dropped or a piece of bread found in the garbage.

But one day, in the early morning of a normal day, I woke up to a strange smell. Strange because I have never smelt something like that in all the years I've been living in my little home.

It didn't smell like food, not at all, it smelt more like a putrid woody odour. And well, what kind of young creature is not hella curious about something that's new.

So my race to the origin of the smell started. I really don't know what I was expecting to find, but I never had in mind to find a house. It seemed a pretty, big house, very shiny to be honest. The house seemed to be moving, dancing to one side and to the other one in an incoherent rhythm, making cracking sounds like its music.

People were standing in the middle of the street, admiring the house even more than I was.

"What happened?" I heard a voice from the small crowd. "Are you okay?!" A woman exclaimed.

Maybe I'm looking at the house in a way I really shouldn't.

"I-I don't know. I just saw the fire and-" The voice of the girl stopped, she seemed worried, or scared of something.

The breeze turned hot all of a sudden. I really didn't know if the 'fire' made the girl stay in a shock tune but as I heard her tone of voice something was wrong with that house.

Everything seemed going bad, but things got worse when a woman, all her body stained with the dusty black of the smoke that reigns in and outside of the house, started shouting desperate.

"My daughter! My little daughter is inside the house! Please help! Help her, somebody" The woman cried, begging with her hands, shaking them in the air, right at the faces of the people who were just standing there, no one disposed to save a young life.

That face, I will never forget. The face of despair, tears over her eyes and sweat rolling down her head, frustration towards the people she so much begs, and hate.

Hate towards the people who aren't doing anything to help her. Hate towards the same people that watched me almost every day suffer on the street, walking past me just like they are walking past the desperate mother, the tears on her eyes, still shaking her hands in the air.

I ran, through the 'fire' that was covering the front door as a moving red wall. The extreme heat hit me like I never felt before, a dark fog covering from the non-visible ceiling to almost the dusty cream carpeted floor of the house.

The house was small, with not many rooms and only one floor, but the heavy smoke and the obstacles around made it difficult to explore the place. And I saw her.

The girl, standing in one corner of a small room, red moving walls getting taller as they get closer to her.

She was covering her eyes, I don't even know if she was crying, the noise of the crackling wood and heavy thumbs started getting louder. I was panicked, am I really gonna die in here? I asked myself at that moment.

Now that I think, dying in that place would make thing's easier. Not just for me but for everybody.

I took the girl's dress and started pulling her, trying to find an exit. And I do found it, well I found a window, good enough. The ceiling above us started cracking, letting dust and gravel fill the room. I need to break that window, but if I use something sharp the window could explode and injure us.

Think, Think. I pushed myself, I didn't have too many ideas.

I race to the nearest room I could find. Lots of drawers, a fridge, it was a kitchen or what it used to be. Some drawers half opened, spoons and forks around the dusty floor, smoke escaping from a little hole of the ceiling. Everything burns so much, it hurts, I can't breathe.

I ran back to the room where the girl was. I needed something big, not sharp but heavy enough to break the glass. No options around, fire started surrounding us, my heart was beating miles per hour, I was terribly shacking.

And the girl sobs, "I'm scared" she said, looking at me with a sad-scared face.

"Don't be, we will-" I looked around, fire getting closer, the wall behind us started breaking in half, shapes of fire coming through the holes. "We are gonna make this".

And I ran. With a big jump, closing my eyes, tightening my teeth, I ran through the window. I heard the glass breaking, and the hard breeze of clean air pushed me as if a little storm just passed by.

It felt, wonderful.

I feel tired, hurt, cold. I really don't want to open my eyes again, it feels way too good.

I'm just gonna lie here.