The Last Night At Home
The Last Night At HomeCarol stared down at the wood grain of the dining room table. She tried to focus on the swirls of the grain, and ignore the droning of her father's speech about responsibility. It was the same set of rules, tips, and commandments he had been preaching since she was a kit. She had it memorized word for word at this point, but he still went on and on. It was just one of many reasons why she was so eager to escape from here. The orange vixen flicked her tail about in obvious annoyance, but her father paid no heed to her nonverbal signs. He had never been good at reading emotions, anyways. She supposed this was why she had not bothered to warn him until tonight. Her claws dug into the wood, scraped across it, and then laid the hand back down. She needed the courage to speak for once...He got to the part about how every action would affect her future. This was the part that really made her pissed. She was well aware of every poor decision, hasty choice, and emotional response she had made over the years. Scars from her ex-boyfriends were proof enough to her that she was not the best at thinking ahead. He rambled on as if telling her all of this for the thousandth time would magically change her. All the young fox wanted was for him to stop talking so she could say what she needed to say. Just one second was all she needed to open her mouth and speak.The lecture continued. Her ears folded back while she suppressed a plaintive whine. Carol could not take much more of this, and she hoped that it was beginning to show. She shifted in her chair, laid her arms down on the table, and rested her forehead on them. Red locks of longer hair spilled out over the table surface in every direction. The tendrils tickled at her forearms, and the stimulation provided a minimal amount of distraction from the speech. He continued talking despite her obvious lack of attention to him. Her thoughts turned to her plans.The boxes were stacked up in her room. She had collected them from dumpsters and trashcans for almost two months. Everything she owned was packed up, sorted, labelled, and ready to be moved out tomorrow morning. Her two friends would be dropping by in the morning to help her stuff them in the truck. Pretty much the only thing she would not be taking with her was her bed, but she already had one to go to tomorrow. It was oddly comforting to know that
fact. Carol's lips turned up slightly in a brief smile. Tomorrow was her day. She just had to survive tonight. The vixen could do that.His words turned to the classic section about hard work and dedication. She knew all about that. Carol had been working odd jobs without his knowledge for two years now. Every cent was saved in a private account that she would soon start using. One arm reached down to stroke a claw across her thigh. She idly played with a hole in her jeans. A small hole that she had patched up had reopened. A small sigh of annoyance came out. Mom's sewing machine was too big to go with her. She would have to leave that here with this awful man.The dry voice stopped talking. Her ears flicked up to confirm that he had stopped talking. Carol straightened up in her seat, brushed her hair back out of her eyes, and stared at her father. He was giving her a harsh gaze that made her want to look away. She could not be weak now, though. Now was the time to be strong. Now was the time to stand up, at long last. The chair legs scraped across the tiled floor as she prepared to say what she had kept bottled in for months. Her small hands settled on her hips. This was it. Carol took a deep breath."Dad... I'm moving out to live with my boyfriend. I'm leaving tomorrow."This was the eighth time she had said these words to him. It would not be the last.