The heavy drone of rain pattering against my poncho, and the cacophony that were car horns, stereo systems and yelling pedestrians filled my ears. The acrid stench of gasoline, rubber and wet fur filled my nostrils. I paced my steps, watching each paw step in front of the other, trying my best to ignore the taste of blood in my mouth.
My breathing had steadied since I’d stopped running, but my heart still raced. My ears were folded back and down, partly thanks to the poncho’s weight, but mostly, I didn’t want to be seen. I didn’t want them to find me again. I knew they’d be looking. They’d scour the whole city until they found me. Squeezing the poncho tightly around me, I tried to keep myself from shivering. My little pink nose quivered as it was prone to do, causing my muzzle to ache as barely clotted wounds where my whiskers used to be were forced open, adding that metallic scent of blood to the plethora of other city smells. How had it come to this?
It used to be okay. When I first stepped off the bus, the only thing I remember feeling was excitement. I’d done it! I’d gotten away from my parents, and I could finally live and experience the world on my own terms. I knew things were gonna be hard, I was prepared, or at least, I thought I was. I had a good plan, I thought. I didn’t need my parents’ connections. I could get a good job in the city without being stuck under their ruling thumb forever. Cities were supposed to be lands of opportunity, so I took all the money I’d saved and I’d set out to someplace they’d never be able to find me.
I knew the first days would be rough, but I never thought I’d be mugged. It’s one of those things that I played through my mind, working out how I’d respond, but I never honestly thought it’d ever happen to me. There were two of them, a skink and a mole, and they took everything I had; my wallet with all my money, my identification, my phone, everything but the clothes I wore. It’d be okay, I remember thinking. I’d just go to the police station, and they’ll get my stuff back. When I walked out of those doors, though, I had even less than I had going in; they called me naive for trying an alleyway for a shortcut. They said the odds of me recovering my money was so small that I might as well give up and go home.
How? If if I wanted to go back, there’s no way I could. I couldn’t afford a bus ticket. I couldn’t even afford a payphone, and I knew my parents weren’t going to wire me their money when I’d already lost all of mine, especially after everything I’d said in my leaving letter. Okay, maybe I was stupid to burn that bridge, but I wanted to prove to them that I could do it. It’s my life, not theirs.
The shock of getting robbed didn’t really hit me until way later when I was trying to find somewhere to sleep. I thought I could sleep on a bench or something, but an officer said I couldn’t. When I protested, he directed me to a shelter, but that was full as well. I wandered around until I just couldn’t go any further. I found myself in the same alley I was robbed in, and though there wasn’t anyone to be found, I found myself quaking in fear. There was a large broken down cardboard box sticking out of a dumpster. I pulled it out, folded the edges in, and crawled inside, huddling down and pulling my legs to my chest. I spent all night like that with only a thin hoodie to keep me warm. I don’t even remember being able to sleep.
I spent the next night like that as well, and by the third day, I was really weak and teary-eyed. I didn’t want this, to be alone like this. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. I was cold, tired and hungry. I didn’t want to die like this, lost in some alleyway. I could barely think with my stomach growling so much. I didn’t want to dig through the trash; I kept enough of my sanity to resist that temptation, but gosh, it was hard watching people throw away half-eaten burgers or hotdogs. I asked a few vendors if they could spare me a bite, but they shooed me away. I didn’t protest. I couldn’t. I was a good kid. I didn’t want to do anything wrong and get in trouble, and I didn’t want anyone to hate me.
But when day started to change to night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t care if they hated me. I was too hungry. Another vendor, a bull with a big bushy moustache, shooed me away, but I couldn’t take no for an answer. I waited until he got busy serving a customer, some petite deer only a little taller than I was. She ordered two hotdogs. The vendor prepared the first one and started on the second, and that’s when I struck. I stood nearby and when both of them were distracted in conversation, I swiped the first hotdog and bolted, ignoring the screams of rage and cries of theft behind me. I ran all the way to my cardboard box and scarfed it down as quickly as I could. It was the worst and best hotdog I ever ate.
He must have been watching me the whole time. When I heard his footsteps, I froze, hoping he’d keep walking by, but he stopped right in front of my box and knelt until he could see me and I could see him. He didn’t have a mean face, but he didn’t have a kindly one, either. He was a lion with a shaggy mane, twice my age, maybe more, with golden eyes with tiny dark pupils. His black lips curled upwards, revealing several rows of sharp teeth. “Hungry?” he asked me in a gruff, guttural voice.
I know I shouldn’t have trusted him, but I was so hungry, I nodded before I could even think about it. What other choice did I have? It’s not like anything I’d done so far had worked. I needed help, and this was the first person who had even offered. Of course I accepted. He took my paw and helped me up. He told me he knew some people and a place I could stay, and provided I do what they told me, I could stay and eat for free. After two nights living in a cardboard box, there was no way I was gonna turn something like that down!
At first, everything was really cool, too. He fed me and then took me to another part of town I hadn’t been before, the abandoned harbor. Years ago, the piers had collapsed, and efforts to rebuild them proved futile as the structures kept failing. Some say it was sabotage, but it was never proven. The hovel he took me to was right next to one of the ruined docks, and though it was kind of wet and moldy, I couldn’t complain. Anything was better than a cardboard box.. There were a few guys there, all older than me though a couple were probably within five years or so. They all made introductions, but the only two I remember now are names that I don’t think I could ever forget; JP and Ezell.
JP was this wolf with a thick gray and brown coat of fur, but his most notable feature was his lazy eye; his right eye rolled around as if it had a will of its own. Several teeth were also missing from his muzzle, giving him a harried and haggard appearance. I’d later come to learn the reason why he stood off on his own; his foul breath and pungent body odor could curdle the stomach of the strongest fur.
Ezell was a different matter altogether. Sitting with his leg propped up, the fox with golden brown fur smiled down at me with such a pleasant look that my cheeks started blushing. His tail had a bit of a curve to it, so I imagine he might’ve been mixed with another canine, a dingo or a jackal, maybe. He must have seen me blush because he was the first to speak up when they asked who wanted to show me the ropes.
I didn’t know the ropes were literal.
The fox was kind and gentle to me at first, but he and JP, whose tutelage I was also put under, grew increasingly more violent with me with every day that passed. I tried my best to do what they told me to do. I dropped off packages, I stood lookout, I even stole when they told me to. I wasn’t great at it, but I was good enough not to get caught, but that was never enough. “Should have gotten more!” was a common thing I heard. I was never good enough, no matter how hard I tried. They made me feel guilty about the food they gave me, saying I was barely working or that I was a freeloader. I begged them to give me chances, but to them, I always failed.
They started getting physical after a week. It started off with just a slap across the head when I forgot to turn off the water. Every mistake after that cost me a little bit more. Cuffs evolved into shoves. Shoves into backhands. Backhands into kicks, and by that point, I started to crack. JP’s stench didn’t gross me out, it terrified me. He’d grab me by the neck and choke me, or maybe he’d slam me against the wall. I cowered whenever I could smell him, and I prayed that he’d walk by without noticing me.
Ezell was physical as well, but while JP made me crack, it was the fox who actually broke me. He kept me awake, punishing me if I ever fell asleep before I was allowed to. He ripped off my whiskers because he said their twitching irritated him. The extent of his viciousness didn’t end there, but my soul ached when I think of the other atrocities he committed. He left me exhausted to the point that I could barely walk, and my body always ached now thanks to him. The fur around my wrists had started to wear thin from the ropes he often bound me with.
The two made it perfectly clear that escape was not an option, but after weeks of their abuse, I couldn’t take it anymore. I made two escape attempts, one that ended in failure and almost cost me more than the beating I got as a reward, and one that saw me here, alone in the rain, wearing a poncho stolen from a police officer a few blocks back, and flinching at every rogue sound that I heard.
The payphone booth sheltered me from the wind and rain, but I didn’t dare take off the pancho. I couldn’t let them find me. They’d come for me. I knew they would after what I did. I held a quarter between my fingers, balancing it on the coin slot. All I’d need to do was push it, and I could make a phone call. I didn’t. I started shaking. Both the quarter and my fingers were covered in red. The blood on my face and the blood I tasted was my own. The same couldn’t be said for my fingers. I didn’t know if Ezell was still alive. He was still alive when I slashed at his throat. I had to wait for him to get close… too close. I had to. There wasn’t any other way. They’d find him and they’d know it was me. They’d find me, and they’d… they’d….
Why? Why had it come to that? I didn’t deserve it. My shaking grew worse. I tried to focus, to just push the quarter forward, but I couldn’t. That quarter was Ezell’s. I stole it. I’d stolen a lot of things. My pockets were lined with cash, every bit of it taken from the fox’s discarded pants, taken when Ezell was too occupied with hemorrhaging blood to notice. Why? I was supposed to be a good kid! Theft and maybe even murder? Why? I tried to focus on my breathing, to keep myself from making a scene. No one would pay attention to me, right? Why was I so afraid? “They’re going to kill you, idiot,” I told myself. It didn’t help, not at all. I focused on the payphone with every bit of effort I could spare. Just call!
Who would I call, though? Would I admit that I couldn’t do it and crawl back to my parents? Why I throw myself at their paws and beg for forgiveness? It was better, right? Better than this, better than being cold and hungry and constantly looking over my shoulder? My finger quivered, but I didn’t push it forward. I couldn’t. Yeah, they’d totally take me back, their thieving, murderous son. They’d welcome me back with open arms and announce their total forgiveness, and they’d give me the freedom I craved, right? I pulled my hand back, staring at the blood-stained quarter and just shaking. I just couldn’t. This grave I dug was my own, and it was up to me alone to crawl out of it.
A shadow loomed outside, a tall figure that I couldn’t make out from inside the booth. I watched him, a him I assumed, out of the corner of my eye before stuffing the quarter back into my pocket. I left the booth quickly, muttering an apology for taking so long, but I wasn’t fast enough and a paw clamped down on my shoulder. I tensed, my hands curled into fists and slowly turned. No matter who it was, no matter if they’d found me, they wouldn’t take me, not like they did before, not without a fight.
I’ll make my own way.
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I know this is really different from my usual norm of cute stuff but I wanted to kinda open up the darker side of my character, a side that's not normally shown.
The amazing story is by my awesome friend [iconname]Goji[/iconname], who you should really check out if you are looking to commission a good writer!
The picture is by far, easily, one of my favorite commission of all time.
\n\t\t\t\t\tcommissionsbyj does phenomenal work, their urban scenes are just beautiful~ I can't express my gratitude enough for the work \n\t\t\t\t\tcommissionsbyj on this picture, and the fantastic writing by [iconname]Goji[/iconname]. I hope you guys enjoy their work as much as me :D