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She's Gone

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

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Something had been on my mind the entire day and, for the life of me, I could not fathom why or what exactly it was. A friend would later tell me that this uneasy sense that all was not as it should be was a warning of some kind, but of course it was a warning that, on the day, I brushed aside without a second thought. A feline about town had more important issues to deal with. My sister had asked, no, demanded, that I "look after" her sons for the day, regardless of my plans, so it was imperative that I kept a level head for the most part.

I mean, come on - I thought that was the kind of shit that only happened in movies! What the hell is she on, dumping them with me and then buggering off for the day?

But it didn't matter, because the boys were with me by then and I had to show them a good day out or else be named the aunt who wasn't fun at all. Or something far catchier than that, coming from their mouths.

"Keep it together, honey," I found myself muttering at multiple points in the day, paws smoothing down the black fur on my arms over and over again. "It's okay, just a few more hours to go."

The kittens had insisted that they be taken into town and to the park for the afternoon, although, as we near enough trotted through the main streets like a trio of equines, I didn't pay much attention to any of my surroundings, except for the people. The twisting, writhing throng of other furs made me flinch away noticeably, hating the feel of their clothing or bags touching mine for even a split second. Once, when an old dog on the street clutched at my arm, babbling incoherently about directions, a little shriek of horror escaped my lips, despite, thankfully, being swept away by the bustle. Of course, Joshua and Isaac were utterly unconcerned, darting through the shifting crowd as if they were eels, which was true in a sense. They were just as slippery to catch when they were moving as in the rare moments when they were standing still.

Little relief was granted when our chaotic journey reached the park, the wide open space seeming no less daunting than the crowded streets. One glance at the area, the river bordering the field, other children playing on the grass, some trees along the edge and no fence to separate the children from the road, immediately taunted me with all the possible dangers that would now likely befall the boys. It was pure insanity to leave a place so non-cub friendly, especially since so many youngsters played there daily. I resolved to keep a close eye upon the boys.

However, it was not long before I suffered the disapproving, hawk-like glares of other parents, all giving that same look of satisfied superiority while their little angels played serenely. All because, instead of playing as they should, my charges had wormed their way up a decrepit, old tree that had not a single leaf remaining on its branches. They clung precariously high to a pair of shockingly thin branches, swaying back and for with kitten-ish shrieks of joy and utter ignorance for danger. My sister should have taught them better.

"Joshua! Isaac! Get down here this instant!" I screamed, hands flying to cover my mouth. "You'll fall. Come back - come back here!"

"You can't tell us what to do, can't tell us what to do," they chanted in unison as if they'd rehearsed the whole escapade. "You're not our mum."

No, I was not.

My chest throbbed if I had taken a punch directly between my breasts, I sat down heavily on the grass, uncaring of the world around me as I crushed my tail beneath my buttocks. A feeling akin to being deep underwater washed over me, dragging me down to a despairing depth where the weight and pressure could crush me into nonexistence. My eyes became dull with lifelessness like the colours around me - there were no objects any more, no life passing around. I was retreating into my shell like I had done so many times before, curling into myself and the familiar pain, hollowness encasing my body from head to toe. Movement was suddenly impossible and even the cries of the boys tumbling from the lower branches of the tree could not rouse me from the foetal position I had folded myself into, sitting with my legs drawn up against my chest and my arms wrapped painfully tight around them.

And for a long while, I did not see, hear nor think of anything but her.

I did not know how much time had passed when they pulled me back to reality with an insistent tug on my jacket sleeve. It was Joshua, his brother a few steps behind, covered in dirt from head to toe and a decidedly sullen expression on his pale face. Turning my head slowly, I saw that Isaac was much the same, only with a pair of scraped knees to add insult to injury. Great. My sister would kill me when she saw them. The kittens clung to my arms and legs like limpets, whining pitifully that they wanted to go home, that I had to take them home right away.

Spoiled little brats, I thought too poisonously.

So, I passively allowed them to drag me to my feet, then hanging off my paws as I began the tedious trudge back through town. Thankfully, the streets were far quieter by the mid-afternoon, the town having calmed down and the hectic rush almost having dissipated completely. It was just enough to allow me to walk through without shrinking away from every person. The remaining people gave me a much wider berth as the kittens had begun shrieking and screaming at the top of their lungs, both still clutching my hands in their death grips. I was forced to admit that out of control cubs, pups and the like were indeed an excellent deterrent to those wished to socialise or invade one's personal space while on the street. If they were not so tiring to be around and keep safe, I might have enjoyed the wider berth others gave me. Perhaps I would have to do this again sometime, but when I had had a better night of sleep, I thought wearily.

Yet why wouldn't they be quiet? They never listened to me. They never listened to anyone. What was my sister doing to them? There was no discipline in the house that could be seen. I worried for them, lying awake at night with the lives of these two little cats on my mind. My sister never seemed to care for them as a mother should care for her young. To this day, I'm unsure if she even knew the name of the school that they attended. After all, why should she? It was my job to do so, not hers. It was my job to take them to the school on time every morning and pick them up every afternoon without fail.

But they were not my kittens, regardless of what I did for them. They were hers.

The little cake shop tucked away on the street corner caught my eye; a bright pink display in the window advertised their special "Kitten Princess Cupcakes" with the corner of the banner fluttering slightly, almost invitingly. There was a flicker of recognition in my mind: I remembered those cakes. I had been given a tray of them back when... No, I couldn't think about that yet, not with the little ones with me, I had to look after them first and foremost. Yet I had to go inside.

Deliberately ignoring the kittens' whining, I strode into the shop with sudden purpose, near dragging them with me. The door opened with a tinkle from the bell above the door, rankling my nerves, and the interior thrummed hot and stuffy as if the ovens had been operating all day. The Golden Retriever canine behind the counter smiled pleasantly as we entered, almost too widely, it seemed to me. I wondered briefly if her jaw hurt from smiling at customers in such a false fashion all day. She was plump enough, perhaps, for her cheeks to hold the pose without too much trouble.

Would I have rounded out so much if I had had her after all?

"Excuse me," I began hesitantly. "I'd like a tray of "Kitten Princess Cupcakes"."

From the way the dog's smile widened a miniscule fraction, I already knew what the answer would be before she had opened her mouth. When she went to reply, I noticed how a smudge of lipstick had rubbed off on to her teeth - garish, why did furs even both with the colourations? - and, for some reason, this detail aggravated me. I wanted to tell her to rub the offending mark away. She should have taken better care of her appearance, not subjected the wider world to it.

But my eyes fell in open disappointment when she went on to tell me that they did not have any of the cupcakes left and that they had sold out of that particular kind that day. And, maybe, just maybe, everything could have been alright after that statement. I could have taken the kittens home, left them with my sister and gone back to my own house for a quiet, peaceful evening. Perhaps nothing more would have happened that day if my gaze had not alighted upon the celebratory cake in the glass display cabinet below the main counter.

There were no "what ifs" about it: the cake was there and it was my downfall.

"Congratulations on Kitten Emily!" it read proudly, a taunting exclamation mark tacked jauntily on to the end. Reading it, something inside me snapped and the sound of shattering glass was reverberating through the store.

Diamonds. The shards of glass falling were like diamonds - glittering, precious jewels tinkling to the floor in a priceless shower. The destruction was beautiful. I swung my fist again, smashing through another glass case, which splintered into shards in much the same way, the razor-sharp edges of broken glass slicing through my skin and shredding fur, but I did not care. I had no will left to care as I destroyed case after case, a raw, animalistic scream tearing itself from my throat as I ceased to be human in that moment.

I finally stopped when the pain in both of my paws became too much to bear, the hurt lancing through my hands like white-hot needles were being driven into them repeatedly. The destruction was incredible - the shop was in pieces, quite literally. I had done this? With my own two paws? The brief moment of awe at what I had done passed rapidly, however, and I was overcome with horror. What had I done? The canine from behind the counter was gone; Joshua and Isaac stood by the door with their jaws hanging, an almost comical image for the two of them to be posed in. Out, out, out - I had to get out of there before anyone came back.

Not daring to say a single word to them, I grabbed their hands and ran from the store, my feet crunching over the broken glass as I went. I towed the uncomprehending duo behind me as quickly as I could down the street - away from the scene of the crime. And later on, when they had been returned to their scornful sister (just what had I done to them that day - why, they were covered with filth!), I took my leave back to my own home. My own, lonely, empty, void home. Void like the space in my womb, where no kitten could ever grow again.

And there, I sat and cried for my little Emily.