dark child
Dark child
My name is Terrica which means "Dark child". I do not feel dark yet the dark seems to follow me. Despite my wolven heritage, I am slight and weakly muscled. My dark almost black fur clashes with my bright green eyes in a way that makes me look otherworldly. At least that's what shaneen says. Shaneen gave birth to me but I do not call her mother. It is Mistress or lady shaneen. I guess it makes her feel important. Living in a small house on the outskirts of town isn't the most royal experience. It stinks, annual flooding, wild dogs, customary cop raids and regular visits from Peters "associates". Peter is what some people might say, my father. To me he's my tormentor. He's also a drug dealer. Small timer is what I'd call him. He always owes people money. If the cops aren't ruining our house, it's some drugged up dead beat looking for a hit. Peter was a strong man though thin like myself. He tried to talk his way out of problems with people bigger then himself but never hesitated to beat someone smaller, I.e. me. The last time I saw him was during the most biggest beating I had received. I was outside, trying to retrieve the garden sheds contents from a small flash flood. I was up to my calf's in mud and some oozed into my gumboots. I had already fallen over twice so muck was covering my blue shirt and red pants. Cuts ran up my arms from whatever floated by and my fur was matted with sludge. Inside there was shouting and a scream from shaneen. I heard a body hit the floor and I reached into the waters again, ignoring the sounds coming from inside. I counted the moments until the druggie was gone and my father could come take his frustration out on me. Squeezing my eyes shut to stop any tears I reached into the brown current and pulled out a run away broom. A slam of the door told me I had but a few moments with my ribs before the oncoming attack. I glanced up and felt the blood run from my face. Peter was on time and was storming towards me with murder in his eyes. I knew I would be the vent for a bad deal. My hands clenched upon the broom handle as the first fist made contact. I tasted blood as my teeth went through my cheek. I let myself go limp and fell into the water running past. My head went under and for a moment I thought he would let me be. Rough hands clenched around my shirt collar and yanked me forward. Another fist. I heard the crunch of my broken muzzle. I had barely enough time to moan before the true assault began. Fist after fist made contact with my face until I knew I wouldn't be seeing for a while from my twin black eyes. A soft roaring was filling my ears before I realized I was under water again. He tore the broom from my numb hands and preceded to smash my sides with it. I automatically pulled my head from the water and tried to cover my face. I screamed as he broke my arm. This enraged him. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! Shut your trap you Useless pile of shit!" I fell silent as the broom made contact with my ribs and pushed a fragment into my lung. My breath caught and agony flooded my body. Nothing but pain registered as my various wounds made themselves known. I was mildly aware of my blood coursing away from me with the flood waters. Peter raised the broom above his head before shaneen jumped in the way. "Don't you lay another finger on him!" She screeched. Peter raised his hand and slapped her. She fell to the mud beside me. "Did I ask for input woman!?" Peter raged and kicked her in the side. She whimpered and pulled herself up. She turned back to her husband. "Please think. Social services..." She was cut off by another slap. She stumbled back and her eyes locked onto mine. I knew then what I was to her. I saw love in her eyes and I despised it. It wasn't love between a mother and son but between a person and their pet. The threat of social services broke through the rage though. He dropped the broom and pointed a commanding finger at Shaneen. "Fine, take care of him." She nodded mutely but as he passed he snatched at her arm. She cried out and she whimpered pathetically as she looked at him. "If you call a ambulance or the cops... I'll kill him and choke you with his innards." Their eyes stayed locked as the threat was carried and understood. I passed into unconsciousness.
That was four days ago. The rib in my lung was enough reason to take me to the hospital. Both parents pleaded that druggies attacked me. As the doctors fixed me they rehearsed the story to perfection. They even doted on me. I watch the door. I can only flinch as Peter walks in. A hateful sneer covers his face. He sits beside me. "How do you feel son?" he says. I notice the strain on the last word and know theirs a doctor outside. I open my mouth and produce a small squeak of fright. It's enough for the doctor to poke his head in. my eyes dart to my only escape. I watch as he walks over and starts a conversation with Peter. Peter asks when I can be unhooked from the machine that pumps air into me. I glance at it now. Lights flash and it makes a swirling sound as it does the job of my collapsed lung. I look back. Both adults are leaving. The doctor mutters to my father that I will die without the machine at this stage. As they leave the room my mind whirls. Weakly I start to reach for the machine. I see the on/off switch. My hand aches and my head throbs. My fingers touch the switch and press it down. The swirling stops and my breath catches. My eyes close as my lungs automatically try to start working. Pain lances its way through every nerve and my oxygen starved mind starts to shut down. It's agony but I'm happy. I'll be free at last in a few moments...