FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Colton's P.O.V.

November 15th

I stretch and yawn, kicking my sheets off. Again, I had thrown my heavier outer blanket off the bed in my sleep. The corners of my lips loft in a slight smile as I slide out of bed and throw the quilt back on.

Perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is Colton, and I'm a 18-year-old male winged wolf. It's kinda embarrassing, actually, I get made fun of for it all the time. My fur is cobalt blue with white undersides. My wings are of a leathery material, and again, cobalt blue. My eyes are a hazel blue, meaning that they change depending on my mood, clothing, etcetera.

I heave a great big sigh as I hear thundering steps coming up the stairs. My door bangs in. "Colton! What were you thinking, sleeping in so much! The bus is almost here!"

I flatten my ears and flinch back, but his slap still hits me hard across the face. I whine and back away from him, cowering at the anger in his eyes. He growls once, then turns and storms back out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Sleep, eat, go to school, come home, do my homework, eat, do whatever Dad tells me to, sleep, repeat. That's been my schedule for the last several years. I can't change it, nor do I want to. I have no one, and no one will have me.

After brushing my teeth, I throw together the few last things that I need for school, then grab a piece of toast and scurry out the door before Dad can hit me. I wait outside for the bus, munching on my toast, deep in thought about random things--my dreams, school, an assignment that I have due next week--

"Colton! Will you snap out of it and get on the damn bus!" Freddy, the bus driver, yells at me.

I smile shyly and step on to the bus, heading to the back, to my normal spot. I get to it to find that it's taken by a small purple fox. "Hey Charlotte."

"Oh, Colton, nice to see you." She smiles, her pearly-white teeth shining, as always. Her parents are dentists is why.

Charlotte and I have known each other for a long time, since like second grade. We've gone to each tier together: first elementary, then middle, and now high. We're going into our senior year.

"Your dad's still being shit?" Charlotte asks as I sit down.

I nod. "Yeah."

"So coming out's still not an option?"

"No, but I have to do it sometime soon." I sigh. "Maybe promising myself I'd come out before college was a mistake."

Charlotte punches my arm softly. "Well, you have to do it sometime, and your dad isn't gonna get any better, so sooner rather than later." She smiles at me, but her eyes are cold. "Call me if you need any help or backup."

My eyes turn to ice. "Don't worry. I've been taking Karate for a reason."

***

Colton's P.O.V.

March 21st

I shrug my new leather jacket off, draping it over one of my shoulders before heading through the living room to the stairs behind. Just as I suspected, Dad is waiting for me. "You're late," he growls.

"I was hanging out with Charlotte this afternoon. I told you that earlier. I'm home on time, too." I shrug nonchalantly at him.

"Go upstairs, clean your room, fix the light in the basement, make dinner,and be in bed by ten, or you'll face the consequences. Got it?" He turns away before I even acknowledge him.

"Fix it yourself," I retort.

Slowly, he turns to face me. "What...Did you say?"

"I said," I say, very slow as if I'm speaking to a small child instead of my dad, "fix it yourself."

He snarls, spittle flying from his mouth. "You will NOT speak to me in that manner!" he roars, inches from charging me.

"Just because mom left you," I say, "doesn't mean you have to take it all out on me. And she left with good reason, too. If I'd had the money, I would've left as well."

He roars something inarticulate and charges at me. Just before he hits me, I bend down and catapult him over my back. He slams into the wall with a resounding crash! I turn to face him, snapping my elbow, which causes a butterfly knife to slide out of a hidden compartment in my sleeve. When the handle hits my hand I grab it, flipping the blade out with a series of practiced flips.

My dad rises from the wreckage of the wall, looking for all the world like the Abominable Snowwolf. I pull back my hand and throw the knife, whirling, end over end--

And he plucks it out of the air as if it's an annoying fly that he's gonna crush between his fingers. I gasp, softly, but he hears it anyway. He smiles a soft, cruel smile. "Didn't think I'd catch it, did you?" He flips it around and draws his own hand back as he says, "I beg you didn't expect this either!" The hand comes down, the knife leaving his hand. I see the motion and start to lean to the side. As the knife sails nearer me, time seems to slow down. I know I'm not gonna be able to dodge, but if I can get myself enough to the side, it shouldn't do much harm.

It plunges into my shoulder. However, instead of pain, I feel ice-cold, and I know it reflects in my eyes. The cold anger that I feel is reflected in my eyes, and my dad laughs. "You really think I'm gonna fight fair with you? No, no, no, I had to play dirty. I know you've been taking Martial Arts classes behind my back, and it's kind of annoying. Honestly, I thought you'd know me better by now. I can move faster than anything you're puny mind can think of."

I smirk, still not feeling any pain from the knife in my shoulder. "I have something that your puny mind can't think of--Any guesses?"

My dad smirks. "Maybe that you're having a hard time speaking with the knife in your shoulder?"

I laugh. "Not at all, actually, it doesn't hurt. What it is? I'm gay." I give him a good look at my middle finger. "And you, my good sir?...Fuck you." I grab my coat from where it fell on the floor and bolt out of the house, grabbing a charger for my phone on the way out. A glance back tells me that for once, my dad is actually struck speechless.

After glancing up and down the street, I dash across and into the forest on the other side. After a little while I stop and lean against a tree, my tongue lolling out of my mouth as I pant. I use my left hand--the arm not damaged by the knife--to speed dial Charlotte's number. She picks up after one ring. "What's up?" she asks immediately. "Did you come out?"

"Yeah." I grind out, still not feeling the pain of the wound. "But probably not in the best of conditions." Before she can ask, I spill everything that's happened in the past few minutes.

"Okay, as soon as we get off, call emergency services. Start making your way through the forest to the nearest road--"

"Thank God for the integral sense of direction I have," I interrupt.

"--and wave them down." She continues as if I didn't say anything. "Does it hurt?"

I start walking as soon as she says to get to the nearest road. "No, but I should probably leave the knife in until the paramedics get there or I'll bleed out. As long as I'm not feeling pain I should be fine."

"The painlessness is probably because you're in shock. As soon as you come out of it that will hurt like hell."

I sigh and spot a Starbucks near an intersection, the familiar green sign like a beacon in the dark for me. "I'm at the Starbucks near 49th and Pierce. And I know, by the way."

"I'll be right there. Call 9-1-1 now. I'll see you in a few." She hangs up without saying goodbye, and I know exactly why.

Because saying goodbye means she thinks I might die.

I phone emergency services, and the familiar, "Nine-one-one, what's your--"

"I was stabbed with a knife, it's still in my shoulder. I need medical attention as soon as you can get here."

"Where are you?"

"I'm next to the Starbucks at 49th and Pierce. I got here after running from my house."

I hear her voice tighten slightly. "Help is on the way." A few seconds pass, then she asks, "If you don't mind my asking, do you know who stabbed you?"

Now it's my voice that tightens, out of anger. "My dad."

"Okay. Help will be there in a few minutes."

I hang up after voicing a quick thank-you and sit on the curb, ignoring with a passion the knife in my shoulder. Several passerby stop and ask me about the knife in my shoulder, and I ask them what they're talking about. That sends them off.

I hear tires screech, and a few seconds later Charlotte is at my side. "Does it hurt?"

I shake my head. "No, my guess is that though the shock has probably worn off by now, the adrenaline is still preventing the pain from registering."

She nods an acknowledgment and sits next to me. She's the only one I've let into my life since middle school. I've had my trust broken too many times to put it in someone new. I take a deep breath and push my mind off of the memories before I have a flashback.

"Flashback?" Charlotte has her hand on my arm.

I shake my head, then wince. "Those emergency teams had better get their asses over here soon."

"Is it starting to hurt?"

I nod shortly, gritting my teeth. I grab the handle and yank it out. Several bystanders gasp and stumble backwards as blood spills out onto the sidewalk.

A few seconds later, sirens fill my ears. I flatten them, trying to block out the noise that suddenly seems extremely loud to my ears. The paramedics rush out with a stretcher. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Charlotte grab the knife and wipe it off on the grass, then stuff it in her pocket after flipping the blade down. I whine in pain as the paramedics gauze my shoulder, blood soaking through almost right away. "Hold still, okay?" one of the paramedics--a tiger--says gently. Then they heave me up, and I cry out in pain as my shoulder is jostled.

The last thing I remember is being loaded into the ambulance. Then the darkness closes in, warm and comforting, and I gratefully sink into it.

Charlotte's P.O.V.

Same day

My phone buzzes, and I see Colton's I.D. appear on my screen. I scramble to pick it up.

"What's up?" I ask as soon as I do. "Did you come out?"

"Yeah," he replies, more than a little terse. "But not in the best of conditions." He quickly explains to me what happened, and I'm a business.

"Okay, as soon as we get off, call emergency services. Start making your way through the forest to the nearest road--"

"Thank God for the integral sense of direction I have," he interrupts.

"--and wave them down." I continue as if he didn't say anything. "Does it hurt?"

I hear him start walking as soon as I say to get to the nearest road. "No, but I should probably leave the knife in until the paramedics get there or I'll bleed out. As long as I'm not feeling pain I should be fine."

"The painlessness is probably because you're in shock. As soon as you come out of it that will hurt like hell."

Coton sighs, then makes a noise of relief. "I'm at the Starbucks near 49th and Pierce. And I know, by the way."

"I'll be right there. Call 9-1-1 now. I'll see you in a few." I hang up without saying goodbye.

Because saying goodbye means I thinks he might die.

I take a deep breath, then grab a sweater and struggle into it as I grab my keys and make my way to the front door. "Mom, I'm headed out!" I call.

"Take good care of him!" she yells back. I should've known she'd know.

"I will!" I close the door behind me--probably slamming it without intending to--and catapult into my front seat, jamming the Kay's into the ignition, praying that it would start on the first try. It does, puttering to life as I scramble for my seat belt, already pulling out of the driveway.

I must've been going 110 miles per hour as I speed to the Starbucks. The 5 minute drive takes about forty-five seconds. I slam on the brakes and leap out of the car, shutting it off as I jump out--something I'd mastered over the past few years. "Screw off!" I growl at the bystanders gawking at the boy with a knife in his shoulder. They scramble off hastily.

I sit down next to Colton. "Does it hurt?"

He shakes his head. "No, my guess is that although the shock has probably worn off, the adrenaline is still preventing the pain from registering."

He stares off into space for a few minutes, and I get worried, putting my arm on his arm. "Flashback?"

He shakes his head, then winces. "Those emergency teams had better get here soon."

"Is it starting to hurt?" I ask, worry etched onto my muzzle.

He nods slightly, brows furrowed in pain. Before I can stop him, he grabs the knife and jerks it out of his shoulder. I hear people behind us gasp, distantly. I shrug my sweater over my head and press it to the wound, trying desperately to stop the flow of blood. It isn't working very well, and by the time the paramedics get here, Colton has lost a lot of blood, and he's fading in and out of consciousness, although I'm not sure he notices it. I grab his knife and wipes it on the grass beside the road, then flip the blade down and stuff it in my pocket. I climb into the ambulance after the paramedics and hold Colton's hand as we head to the hospital, dimly thinking that I'm probably going into shock as well.

I take a deep breath and shake my head, snapping myself out of it. I have to stay well through this process, for Colton.

(A/N Well, that's kinda a depressing note to start the story out on! What's going to happen to Colton? I'm sure he won't be able to head back home...

Hope you guys enjoyed!

-EcstaticFur

P.S. not proofread))