FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Her existence began not very long ago, at least in comparison to my own. I did not find her as much as she called to me, as they all do. I exist to soothe her fears, and be the companion she trusts. I take many forms, but for her I was a dog.

Her name was Rebecca Roade Brice, a young blonde girl, with dark marbling on her arms and face more often than not. Her clothes were usually nice, but after playing with her father she was worse for wear. I did not care for him, a maggot I care not to remember the name of, but appreciated all the same. Her mother however, was Hannah, she had grown into a beautiful lithe woman and looked good in white.

I came to her when she cried, I could hear her pleas for companionship even at the small fragile age she was. Hurt and marbled, afraid of the world and those who spoke ill. I could taste her fear, the salt of her tears on her unwashed face. The feel of her hands as she clung to me, fistfuls of fur that she would bury her face into.

Though when we met I existed through one of her dolls, she would speak to me and I would answer. When she was gone I waited for her return, sat on her bed of crusty stains. I would wait for her embrace and her sniffled words, feeding on her tears that soaked the fibers of the plush dog.

As she grew older, and the marbling darker and more various, she stopped parting with me. The small two story house was rather pleasant and warm. Crosses and sweet pictures hung on the walls, nativity sets on a number of shelves and pictures of Mary or Jesus laid around. The carpets were clean and the house smelled of fresh linens.

Father would sit at the head of the table, marbled girls to each side who said nothing unless spoken to. He would lead prayer and take first bite, and when done leave his plate on the table to go and watch television. Then proceed to call to the woman for not completing some menial task.

The woman who sat across from Rebecca was not Hannah. Her name was Margaret, a lovely brunette. She could hear me too, but only when I wanted her to. Blue was her best color, even on her broken lips, showing in the moonlight from the small window in the basement.

She left us when Rebecca was seven, leaving poor little Rebecca to take her place. She would do the chores, prepare the meals -with varying levels of disappointing success-, and tend to her father as he demanded. By the time she was ten her marbling had grown to cover much of her chest and legs.

As all God fearing children, she attended church, confessed her sins, and was beaten for ones she missed. Father demanded purity, and he would get it whether she liked it or not. He would then show her his love, which she had slowly grown to take with a blank face.

She would cry, but only once he was done and I would console her. She wanted to run, but then father would find her and drag her back. And how did she know that those outside would not hurt her too? She did not go to school, she did not know the other girls that played outside. No, we stayed inside and played in her room. She had plenty of toys, from dolls to dress up clothes, and tea sets.

I grew to quite enjoy 'honeyberry tea', it was her favorite, and the crumpets were not too bad either. Though eventually she outgrew our tea parties, and it moved to books. There were not many books she was allowed to read, so she would read the bible and I would listen. Laid in her lap with her hand stroking my head and ears.

Sometimes Father would scold her for reading aloud, as it bothered him to hear slurried words pass her painfully full lips. Often she would hide with me to continue reading, I enjoyed listening, slurring or not. He just could not appreciate her as I did.

Though he did appreciate how she grew, despite the marbling on her body and the half hazard cutting of her beautiful blonde hair. As she got older he was more generous with his love, but equally aggressive with his punishments. It mattered not, she had me. I was her friend, her companion, and the voice in her ear that made her giggle.

But I hurt for her, I wanted her happy, and that is hard to do with a maggot always burrowing into her flesh. The art on her body was beautiful, but it made it harder for her to cuddle me. I did not mind the dark room we were locked in when he was gone, but I loved the way the light made her moon hued skin glow. I had to do something, so I whispered in her ear.

Let us do something about him... He is old and you are young! Let us be rid of him so we may play without his scolding.

"But... He is my father, father would not like me to leave him..." She said quietly, ever afraid he was watching her.

What if.... He left you?

"Left me," her brown eyes were blank but her head tilted curiously.

Yes, what if we made him leave you... Leave you alone. He does not love you as I do, he makes you hurt. I am your friend... I want you to be pain free. Don't you trust me?

She gave a hesitant nod, "Of course I do."

Then let us do away with him, we do not need him. You have me, and I will always be with you. I only want what is best for you... To be safe and happy. Is that not what you want? I rolled to show my belly, always enjoying her touch.

Rebecca reached over, fingers running through the soft fur of my stomach with a tiny smile. "Yes... I want that, I want to be happy. As long as I still have you."

Do not worry, when it is done, we will have a grand tea party! I could feel her excitement, and it brought me happiness, knowing that soon she would be free and not be so afraid of this maggot.

The day came after one of his expressions of love, he had become angry with her for not looking at him and gaining weight. Though she had been gaining for some time. After, he had left some dark marbling on her face, and left her in the crusty sheets while he went to bathe.

Now is our chance... Go to the kitchen and get the biggest knife. I followed her down the steps, letting her hold a fistful of my fur. I acted as support, though physically I did nothing.

Then, with knife in hand, I led her back upstairs, down the hall to the bathroom. Standing by her side before the white painted door, You can do this. He has hurt you, now we hurt him back! We will escape him!

Her hands were shaking almost as much as her legs, so I rose a paw, monstrous claws and cold pads touching her hand as she looked down at me. My pearl white eyes gazing back up at her.

I am here for you Rebecca... Do what must be done so we can be free to play.

She gave me a nod, and opened the door, knife sliding behind her back as she did. Stepping into the bathroom where Father stood naked, a towel in hand from shaving his face.

"Rebecca," he questioned in sweet obliviousness. "Come to take a bath with me?"

I sat before the door, just in the hall. I did not smile, but I was quite pleased. My Rebecca... How she had grown. Her slender frame adorned in marbled patterns, barely clothed in the stained nightgown Margaret once wore. I watched... content.

The tile of the tub was almost as milky white as her skin, casted in streaks that oddly reminded me of strawberry glaze. It streamed down the wall, coated her face and hands and turned almost black. I almost didn't realize she was crying, a happy smile on her lips. That's my girl, let out your pain.

She spent ten minutes perforating his flesh and staining the white porcelain of the tub. Her nightgown had been torn in the struggle, so she sat naked on his legs. Dripping the remains of his love in his own red fluids that glugged down the drain. Catching her breath, her trembling hands dropped the knife and she climbed out.

After some cleaning up, she shut the door to leave him there, and I enjoyed a lovely cup of tea and a steak at the table. Then we sat on the couch and watched television until she fell asleep.

I am still so proud of her, and must say that though red looks good on her, like her mother she looks best in white. We sit in her soft room and she tells me of all the things on her mind. We giggle and laugh and enjoy our Honeyberry tea and crumpets. She reads to me on occasion, now having a wider selection when out for free time.

It is unfortunate they took her daughter from her, but I am here to soothe her. I will always be there for my Rebecca, as I was for my Margaret... and my Hannah. And one day, when she cries in her foster home, in a room with crusty sheets and mystery stains...

I will be there for my Vanessa...