Meet the Family
I woke up and the first thing I felt was warmth surrounding my body. Next I felt a throbbing in my skull, echoing through my ears. I slowly opened my eyes, shocked to see another muzzle right in front of mine. I blinked my eyes clear, and saw Blake laying next to me. Then I realized he wasn't wearing a shirt, as I stared down at his muscled chest. Then I realized I wasn't wearing a shirt either. And that we were both in bed together."What the?!" I pushed away from him, falling backwards off the bed and landing on my back. "Ngh..." I rubbed my back, sitting up on my elbows. Blake stirred, his eyes opening and he looked at me. "What's wrong?" He sat up. "What the hell are we doing?!" I shot up, looking around and scooping up my shirt and quickly slipping it on, followed by my hoodie. Blake was now standing up and reaching for me. "What do you mean? You came here with me last night-""Last night?" I furrowed my brow in concentration. "I don't think your family would've been very pleased if you'd gone home drunk anyways, besides you wanted-""You got me drunk?!" I slapped my forehead. "And then you took me home just so you could fool around with me while I'm not sober?" I stormed out his door, skipping every other stair on my way down. He followed behind me. "Terryn, it wasn't like-" "Just leave me the hell alone!" I sped up, walking down a hallway and finding what I was pretty sure was the front door, which I threw open and walked out. "Please, just listen to me!" "I'm done with you Blake!" I spat, stomping across the front lawn, noticing a small wolf holding a ball and watching me with a confused stare as I walked by. I ignored him, speeding up to a jog and turning down the sidewalk, pulling my hood up over my head. The sky was overcast, the city icy cold and grey. "I need to get home..." I grabbed my hoodie, pulling it closer and tighter around myself with a shiver. I turned down an old brick alley, having figured out the layout of the city in the short time I'd been here. "Well, what do we have here?" A tall rat stepped from the shadows, wearing a raggedy flannel shirt under a torn old jacket that was a bit too small for him. "An adorable little fox, headed right through my alley." He pulled a switch blade from his pocket, a sinister grin on his narrow muzzle. "Now be a good boy and empty your pockets." He ordered."I don't have time for this." I sighed and rubbed my forehead. "Look dude, I don't want any trouble, but I don't have anything on me." I patted on my empty pockets and turned them inside out for him. "In that case, I want something different." He licked his lips, glancing downwards at my body. "God dammit..." I sighed again. "Go fuck yourself." "What'd you just say?" He stepped forward, raising his weapon. I lashed out and grabbed his wrist holding the knife, twisting his arm, and whipped
my other arm around, elbowing him in the jaw and wrapping his own arm around his body. I stood behind him now, holding one arm behind his back, my heel planted on the back of his neck so that his face was against the ground. "Why you little-""Can it rat. I'm having a pretty shitty day in the fifteen minutes I've been awake, so if you value the arm you use to jack off in the dumpsters, I suggest you drop the knife and forget my face." I growled. "F-fine..." I heard the clatter of metal hitting asphalt. "...Crazy fucking kids these days..." He spat, despite his current position. "Shut the hell up already." I ordered flatly, lifting my heel from his head and pulling him back up a few inches, before stomping it down again and slamming his face against the pavement. His body went limp below me, and I took his switch blade, dropping it down a drainage pipe a few feet away. I exited the alley way, passing several gawking bystanders. "Feel free to call the police, or y'know, maybe help somebody out next time." I glared at each of them, before grabbing the edges of my hood and pulling it down lower to cover my eyes, as it had begun to lightly rain. I made one last turn, my clothes now soaked by the icy rain, and looked up to see my dingy apartment building. It was wedged between two much nicer looking buildings, making it stick out like a sore thumb. The old bricks were darkened with mold, black streaks running down from under window sills and gutters. I pushed open the smudgy glass door, my nose hit with a wave of cigarette smoke and cheap air freshener. I trudged up the stairs to the second floor, stopping in front of room 144, and pulling out an old worn key from my pocket and sliding it into the lock. I pushed the door open to my cramped double-decker apartment. I heard muttering and cards shuffling in the living room, peering around the corner and seeing four men engaged in a poker game; a Rottweiler, a great dane, a lion, and my father who was an arctic fox like me. Several of them were smoking, and both the rottweiler and my father held a bottle of beer in their hands. I practically gagged at the sight of the beverage. I crouched down, crawling towards the stairs silently and creeping up them. I sighed in relief when I reached the top without being noticed. I turned, finding myself face to face with a very angry looking vixen."Do you have any idea how close I came to calling the police?!" She scolded me quietly. "Where the hell have you been?!" "Hanging out with friends. Why are you so worried, I'm here, aren't I?" "I was worried because my little brother is wandering around the city without telling anybody where he is!" Clara, my older sister, punched me in the arm firmly. "Well I'm here, so let's just forget about it." I rolled my eyes, sighing.She sighed back, rubbing her temples. "Next time you feel like roaming
throughout the night, at least warn me." She grumbled. "I thought some creep had taken your tail in an alleyway or something..." She spun on her heels, going back into her room and shutting the door behind her. "If only you knew." I mumbled. I pushed open the door to my bedroom, and quietly closing it behind me. I sat down on the foot of my bed, staring at the walls. My bedroom was normal for that of a teenager; various posters for video games and TV shows scattered on the walls, a dresser stuffed full of clothes with random junk scattered on the top, and other pieces of furniture. A few articles of clothing were scattered over the floor, along with a few other pieces of typical teenage junk. Don't get me wrong, I'm no slob, in fact I usually try to keep my room organized, but as of recently I'd just let it get out of hand. I lay down on my side, my head still throbbing as laid there. What the hell had I been thinking? The way Blake constantly flirted with me, I should never have let myself go like that. Now... Now I don't even know what to do. I don't know how long I laid on my bed, but I must have dozed off. I sat up and rubbed my muzzle before standing up and stretching. I opened my door, tiptoeing down the stairs into the kitchen to get something to drink. I grabbed a cup from the cupboard before hearing a voice behind me. "Aren't you just a piece of eye candy..." A deep, slightly raspy voice spoke. I turned around to see the rottweiler my father had been playing poker with. He looked to be in his early thirties, tall, with the beginnings of a beer-gut forming underneath his dirty wife-beater. Is everyone in this city a complete sex-crazed sociopath? "Back off, mutt." I growled before turning on my heel to walk up the stairs with my water. Suddenly his paw wrapped around my tail, pulling me back. I spun around, punching him in the throat before rearing my right leg back, kicking him in the chest and knocking him on his back, and I threw the cup full of water over his face, the plastic cup bouncing across the floor. I stomped up the steps as the rottweiler groaned and panted. I threw my door open and slammed it shut just after entering my room. I heard the sound of the heavy door to our apartment slam shut, and somebody else coming up the steps. My door was flung open, and an arctic fox walked in. He was tall, and broad shouldered. His short hair was ruffled, and his fur reeked of cigarettes. He wasn't exactly ripped, but he at least didn't have a beer gut like that of the mutt downstairs. "What the fuck was that, Terryn?" He reached out, grabbing a fist full of my hair and pushing me up against the wall. He glared at me, his teeth bared. "Answer me you little shit!" His breath smelled of cheap alcohol. I glared right back at him. "Don't you have a game to get back to?" I replied flatly. "Boy... You keep up this kind of shit and I'll throw you out that
window." He snarled before walking back out and slamming the door behind himself. And there you have it. Allen Dawes, my 'father.' I prefer to call him my sperm donor. There was a light knock at my door, and my sister poked her head in. "Terryn..." She stepped in, grabbing my shoulders and gently hugging me. "Did he hurt you?" Clara can be a bit of a bitch sometimes, but she still cares for me and treats me like a little brother. "Clara, I'm fine." I reassured her, returning her embrace. "Terry," I folded my ears back at the childish sounding nickname. "I promise you I'll get us out of here. I almost have enough money to rent out my own small apartment, not the best but we'll get by." She pulled away from me, looking into my eyes intently. I could see tears in the corners of her eyes, but she held a tiny smile. "We're almost out of here, I just need a little bit more time." I simply nodded in reply, smiling sheepishly back at her. "You're sure you're fine?" She asked again. "I'm fine, Clara, really." I smiled a bit more confidently. She sighed in response and wiped her eyes, before leaning forward and kissing my cheek; then she stood and walked out of my bedroom. I sat down on the edge of my bed silently, and felt the familiar burning of tears in my eyes. I sighed, closing my eyes and breathing deeply, calming myself. This is the way things had been for years now. Dad would get into gambling with his friends, and when he used up all of his money he would turn to borrowing cash from his "buddies" around the city. Then he would gamble that away too, and when he couldn't pay them back he'd simply pack up and leave, dragging us behind him. It wasn't all that bad, until alcohol came into the mix. He became hostile and antisocial. And when the hangovers came, he used the only treatment he knew; drink more. Me and Clara had learned not to try and stop him; the hard way. She and I had spent our fair share of nights locked in a closet, sometimes locked out of the apartments and out on the streets for the night. Thinking about it all, I felt my eyes watering again and I rubbed them before any of the tears fell. I missed our mother. We both did. There's not any dramatic backstory to why she left, or her being murdered by some super villain. She'd simply gotten sick, and because Dad constantly gambled our money away, we couldn't afford the treatment bills. I don't remember much about her, she'd died while I was only seven years old. Clara tells me she was the nicest woman a child could call their mother. Sometimes I spend hours on end trying to remember something about her, but nothing ever comes. All I had was the ring that she used to wear, which Clara gave to me on a necklace.I reached up to my neck to hold it, which I usually did when I was upset. My eyes went wide as I realized the necklace was gone.