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Nothing ever felt quite right I suppose.
I guess that’s why I am and have been this way.
I guess…that’s why…
Sighing, I turned my head, forlorn, resting it on top of my outstretched paws.
I’ve never really wanted to do anything.
So whenever I got stuck in my den for some vague punishment caused by something that really shouldn’t have been a big deal…well, it never turned out to be a punishment, is what I should say.
I enjoyed the confinement.
Everycat thought I was weird for it.
I didn’t think so.
My sense of confidence and self-worth was always….fragile. So whenever somecat commented on how different I was, I’d just keep the mask on and let the pain splinter my heart inside, a thousand spiky thorns stabbing me inside.
I’d keep my head down and apologize for who I was.
Because if I showed I was proud of it, of being different, things weren’t much better.
But now, after doing it for so long, I can’t seem to care much anymore.
I’m afraid everycat hates me.
I guess it’s not fear anymore, I suppose.
It’s disappointment.
My ears swiveled as I heard soft paws thud on smooth rock as a cat entered the den.
I knew who it was.
The only cat who ever tolerated me.
Bristlepaw.
She and I were the two black cats in the clan.
Not literally black cats mind you.
Well I am, but she isn’t.
But that isn’t the point!
I turned my head around, and startled when I realized there were two cats.
Next to Bristlepaw was her mother, Lilyheart.
Lilyheart was nice, if a bit overprotective.
But she cared a lot about her daughter.
And she acted as my adoptive mother when I was younger.
She had seen this side of me.
But she never understood it.
I didn’t have a Clan mother.
I’m just some random kit of a rogue that some Warrior picked up and brought here.
I don’t have an ounce of “blood-loyalty” to this clan in their eyes.
I thought after Firestar, things would change.
Cats would be more accepting of kittypets.
I guess not.
The more things change, the more things stay the same.
I realized I must have looked like a mouse brain, staring blankly at two cats and not acknowledging their entrance.
Snapping out of it, I shook my head.
I finally decided to speak. “What are you doing here, Lilyheart?”
Ok maybe that was ruder than I’d thought it sounded in my head.
If she noticed, she didn’t comment on it. “I’m here because I’m worried.”
The ice crawled back into my voice. I scoffed, “Don’t be. No one should care about me.”
Bristlepaw immediately retorted, hairs raised, “Don’t say that!”
But both of us knew saying that wouldn’t help.
Bristlepaw, seemingly realizing this, deflated, coaxing Lilyheart to leave the two alone.
She slinked out of the den, exchanging one last worried glance at me before she walked out.
At least that’s what I thought she did, when the she-cat left the apprentice den.
Bristlepaw moved closer to sit next to me. I shifted slightly, my shoulders turned away.
She sighed, her breath turning to mist, “You and I both know how you feel. I can’t change that. But I want you to know you’re not alone.”
Something in me snapped.
Jerking around, I snarled, “You have no idea what it’s like! You’re the only cat I can relate to, and yet you’ll never understand. You have a mother! You’re clan-born! You have friends! You have a loving mentor! I don’t !”
When I had spoken the last word, I collapsed on the floor.
I sunk into myself, curling my tail around my chest, breathing shaky and shallow.
I was muttering in a rant of self-hatred and self-deprecation, too wrapped up in my misery to realize what had happened.
“Stupid mousebrain, thinking I could be loved. I’m just a pathetic, stupid cat who’s just a burden who inconveniences everyone and who everyone hates and who'd be better off dead .”
I had expected her to cry.
What I didn’t expect was a stern stare, and paws grabbing my face, making me look up at her face and into her blue eyes.
“Don’t you ever say that again.” Her eyes and voice had turned cold as steel. They stared back at her with a hardness I had never thought possible by her.
“Don’t you,” her shoulder had started shaking in anger, her tense muscles rippling through her coat, “ ever wish to be dead.”
Eventually, her grip on me relented, though it felt like forever, minutes seeming like hours, though not before feeling like I had had my lungs squeezed of all oxygen.
While I gasped for air, Bristlepaw shook off her anger.
Some of it lingered, but she had recovered.
The ice gone from her eyes, her gaze softened. The pitter-patter of tears plopped on the cold, smooth stone both of us sat on.
She started. “You know what changed me. Spikefur had learned of my…art,” she cringed, her lips curled in a disgusted frown, “and I had that good heart-to-heart with him.”
Her frown turned to a thin smile. “But that didn’t magically solve everything. I healed with Cherryfall, and I confronted those who hurt me.”
“You may think that everyone hates you, but look around.”
At this, Bristle held my paws and led me out of the den.
I didn’t protest.
I had my doubts…but she was usually right.
Stepping out into the sunlight, I swept my gaze over all the cats, looking for a single cat who hated me.
I found none.
And that made me hate myself more than ever before.
Bristle saw that look in my eyes and intended to stamp it out before it got worse.
Pulling me closer, she whispered in my ear, “See that? No one hates you. Your mind just wants to stop you from having a good life. Trust me. See Cherryfall. She helped me with the same stuff you’re going through.”
That casual acceptance, the tempting desire to believe her almost won me over.
Almost.
Voice quiet, I asked, “How do I know you aren’t lying?”
“Because I’m living proof things get better.”
She had that look in her eyes, that strange knowing look she always had whenever we went too far in our jokes.
Yeah, she knew.
Unable to keep it in any longer, I thrust myself into her chest and cried.
“Thank you, Bristle,” I murmured into her soft fur.
“No problem, Void.”