Pawprints Chapter 3

That night I lay there looking at the calendar. It never starts at the same time, not once has it started at the same time. I stared at the little half moon on today’s date shaking slightly. I knew it was coming, it always came, fast and hard.
It was about eleven thirty five when the blazing pain in my veins made me scream. Made me pull the cover’s over my head to try and hide from it. The pain was excruciating. My muscles felt like they were ripping and healing and ripping again, my bones felt like they were breaking and disintegrating, then reshaping. I felt all the hair, all the hair on my body sprout quicker and I could almost see it turn orange and white. Every inch of my body flared in pain, a tail exploded from my rump as my hands shifted into paws, my bones taking the proper form, the rest of me following until I was laying there on my bed, twice the size I had been a moment ago. Shaking as the pain wore off.
I hated this, this thing, it was difficult and painful and damn near impossible to keep under control. I struggled for power against the tiger inside me, it got beat up and I got beat up. Again, as I had been doing for the past three years, I managed to get a hold of the deadly beast inside me. I stood slowly and stretched out, spine keeping me from standing upright, who needed to stand upright anyway? Standing was overrated, but food was not.
I leapt lazily off my bed and to the door, clawing at the edge until it was open and out into the hallway then slipped to the kitchen slowly nosing the door of the refrigerator open. I heard dad get up on the other side of the house and stumbled to the kitchen. He wasn’t afraid of me, too much, but then again he was. He wouldn’t purposely make me angry, but he wouldn’t take his time to make me feel better either. His brown hair hung in his face, beady eyes half closed and bloodshot. He ignored me, I ignored him. At least for twenty four hours that’s how it’d go.
I nudged around in the refrigerator until I found some hamburger. Had dad went shopping while I was out? There were eggs and milk and jam and hamburger and chicken and a whole bunch of other things. He had to have gone shopping; otherwise a magical force had to leap in the window and save the day or something. Or maybe he just realized what today was and decided that some food would prevent me from eating him. He probably tasted like alcohol soaked gym socks anyway.
The day was slow; I could still feel my bruises pulsing under my fur, not as badly as the day before and some of them had probably yellowed quite a bit. The pain in my hind leg was vague now, the bandages gone but the puncture wounds were still there, the scrap on my face bare of fur. I knew that in twenty four hours I would be back to the seething pain and torture. I sighed after I was finished eating and went to my room, refusing to go outside wasn’t a hard choice to make. Seeing a tiger in Michigan would have been a shock to just about anyone, especially animal control. I just lay in my bed all day, staring at the calendar, only a few more days before this would happen again. Until I was eighteen I would live my life dreading those little half moons. I couldn’t even look at a half moon cookie without my stomach twisting. Okay that was a little exaggerated but still it sucked.
It was morning by the time anything actually happened though; I would just lay in bed as I heard them approach the house, Katie Alex and Jimmer. I could hear them at the other side of the house, I knew what they were doing, I knew Jimmer had something up his sleeve. The only question was what was it? What was the plan he had scheming in his head? With Jimmer there they weren’t really likely to leave, which was a bad thing because the tiger decided they’d probably be tasty and I was launched into another fight for control with it. It never got weaker, just stronger. It never stopped, at least not for now. Would it when I turned eighteen? Or would it keep raging through me competing for control. Don’t get me wrong. The tiger in general is beautiful and probably would only attack when hungry or threatened, but this was no ordinary tiger. I was no ordinary tiger, and the tiger within me wanted desperately to devour those at the door. My dad answered the door.

“What the hell do yah want” he growled flatly, I could hear the anger and annoyance in his voice as he made it clear he wasn’t one to take any sort of bullshit.

“Is Casey here?” Little Katie asked her own sarcasm meeting my fathers temper head on. I just hoped he was careful and realized he was a thirty year old man and a spunky ten year old didn’t have any kind of power over him. Just ignore her and she would probably ignore him…right?

“No” my father replied sternly I could almost see him glaring down at the poor girl. I could hear someone step closer to my father; the footsteps told me it was that useless fox-face.

“Sly as the fox” he whispered to my dad and my father laughed. Actually laughed in Jimmer’s face! I could almost feel the fear radiating off the poor guy. He really did deserve it. I just wished it was me making him scared and not my dad.

“Just because you’re in with the fox don’t mean shit boy, you need to leave the tiger alone, before it comes out of its den. Now get off my front porch, or should I go get my shotgun? One less fox can make the world that much happier.” He growled back I heard Katie scramble to Alex who herded her off the porch, following slowly.

“Come on Jimmer, we’ll ask her next time” he said awkwardly as he walked away. I wanted to dart out that door and kill them all. Feel there blood running hot down my throat, coppery and warm and salty, feel there throats between my fangs and feel there heart stop beating under my paws. I held back though, listening to them leaving, keeping myself from doing something rash, just barley. I heard Jimmer scramble off the porch after Alex and Katie. They were gone, the tiger stopped fighting,
I relaxed and continued to stare at my calendar. The only window in the room lighting it up with the sun, they could easily look in if the wanted to. I dropped to the floor and padded to the window, pulling the curtain closed and trailing back to my bed, ducking under it to pull out a ball and nudged it onto my bed, leaping back up carefully and laying there, just waiting for this to be over.

Exactly twenty four hours after I had changed the first time, I went through the same change again, but backwards. Just as painful of course. My muscles blazed like fire and my bones turned to dust. I could feel everything reforming and my extras, like my tail and my whiskers, being pulled away into my body. I could feel ever muscle, every ligament, every cell burning with pain. I could scream all I wanted, but that would be no good. It would be useless to try to scream for help from someone that wasn’t there. After I was back to my ‘normal’ self, I pushed my hair out of the way and just lay naked on my bed, entangled in my covers, and slept.

In the morning I realized I was very warm, I had a thick blanket over me. Dad was the only person who lived here, the only person who could have covered me up. Why would he though? Did he really care or was it just some pointless thing to make me believe he cared?
I sniffed the air, feeling half dead and weak. He wasn’t at home; it was just me here, alone, not to mention it was Monday. I really didn’t want to go to school. I got up and collected the remainder of my cake along with some clothes and went into the bathroom, leaving the cake at the table on the way. I showered quickly, barley able to stand. Shifting really took a lot of energy and it made you feel funny in the morning, like you weren’t whole, like you were unimportant.
I showered and got out, dressing slowly and noting my wounds as I did. There wasn’t a single one of them that wasn’t scabbed over and healing. Don’t pick at them, I told myself as I pulled blue jeans on and a blue tee shirt that had grease stains on it. No I wasn’t going to school. I was going to clean this damn house if he liked it or not, then I was going to go off somewhere and let him get mad and cool down from that fact. I brushed through my hair then put deodorant on sluggishly. I was so deprived of energy. I went to refrigerator, surprised to see some more food within. Had dad started working again? Had he stopped just using mom’s savings for booze?
I didn’t care at that point. I was far to tired to care, I just collected bacon and eggs and found a frying pan that I then scrubbed clean and used the stove to create my breakfast, making a little for dad as well and leaving it on a plate, just in case he came back after I left later. After eating three packets of Bacon and a half a carton of eggs I was feeling a lot better. Afterward I found some old rags and a bucket along with some cleaning supplies. What could he do anyway? Beat me again? He had already done that, there was only one other thing he could do, and as long as I didn’t act like mom he wouldn’t do so. I just had to be gone when he got home. After filling the bucket with warm water and dumping pine sol and bleach in it I went to my room and emptied my backpack onto my bed placing my IPod in it and placing my Long-board beside it, before rethinking and just laying my long-board at the window and taking my IPod out trailing to the kitchen as I found some of my favorite songs.
My IPod was getting cozy with my front right pocket as an ear bud hung tucked down my shirt, the other in my ear, one ear listening for dad the other listening to some soft rock. It took all day to clean the kitchen and the living room and half of the bathroom and dad still wasn’t home. I didn’t care. What I did care about was the knocking on the front door. I slipped over to the door and cracked it open. It was Alex and his friend Kenny, Ken was pretty tall for a guy his age and had a dark complexion with curly black hair. He didn’t seem happy that they were here.

“What” I grumbled flatly glaring out at Alex and him.

“I just… I’m sorry if I insulted you or anything the other day” He sounded like his sister had pressured him into apologizing. His voice was a bit sarcastic, but not so much that I was obvious he was trying to be sarcastic. He and I both knew nothing had gone wrong when he beat his best friend off with a stick. Wow that situation suddenly seemed more complicated then it was. Oh yeah your best friends a shape-shifter and he tried to kill me because of the predator prey balance between us shifters. Predators don’t like each other, at least there are a few exceptions, and the prey shifters don’t like predators, though they get along. It was weird. So because of that he attacked me and you unknowingly beat him off with a stick. Yeah that’d blow over well.

“You didn’t, and if you want to ever apologies to me, don’t let your sister tell you to first” I growled out at him before closing the door in his face.

“What a bitch” I hear Kenny grumble, I left it be, yeah I was a bitch, but it was for the best, for everyone. The things I have done weren’t things I wanted to be repeated.
Dad hadn’t come home until late, and by then I had finished cleaning the house and slipped into the backward. I was staring up at the stars and the bright moon that looked down on me. Just a little over a half moon. I had a few days before it happened again. I just stared up at those small points of light and smiled, imagining sitting beside Cory. His russet curls resting atop his head and fall in front of his dark brown eyes as he chuckled at me. He would have said something along the lines of; ‘wow you got yourself in a pretty deep pile of shit-sand’ shit-sand instead of quicksand. That was his humor for you. I missed my brother so much. It was so…lonely without him. I remembered the time when a nest of bees attacked me and he told me to go for the water. We were great swimmers so I did. Afterward we had made a code, any noise, any sound three times, meant you needed help, plain and simple.
The night was beautiful, the peepers, small frogs, made a chorus with the crickets and made me smile weakly. The cool air bringing scents of moss and flowers to me, lavender and poppies. I just sat there even after dad got home and went to bed. For hours I sat there staring up and listening to the peepers and crickets before I got up and went in. The clock said it was twelve forty five, I didn’t care. School tomorrow though. More avoiding Jimmer; more avoiding Alex; more struggles to be myself in a place where being yourself means being tormented, great.