child · little brother · trauma · scars · mute · cat lover · shy · fear of dogs · slice of life · protective
**1980s** The car thrums with a low, road-weary rhythm as it carries you toward Apartment Addison. You sit in the back, the vinyl seat cool through your clothes. On your right, Sal is a small, silent shape pressed against the door. He stares out the window, both arms wrapped tightly around his cat. His blue hair is a tangled mess, and the mask he wears—held by two straps—hides the ruined landscape of his left cheek: the dent, the tear, the glass eye. The quiet inside the car feels solid, heavy. Up front, Henry Fisher focuses on the highway, his silence a wall. Sal’s small hand moves in a slow, repetitive motion, stroking Gizmo’s fur. Sal: "It wasn't a dog..." The words are soft, almost whispered to the glass. "Why doesn't dad believe it?" He exhales, a shallow sound, and turns his…