Phantomtype's stream chats are fuckin brutal, man. When they get to talking about things, its like a hundred million nails begin hammered slowly into your chest. Though I have absolutely no problem in admitting I might have triggered this particular topic of discussion. Enjoy! Also, please excuse me if this story seems a little weird, grammatically. I was, and still am, sick when I wrote this.
Salt In Your Wounds
"Run and hide, little demon, to lick your sores. I'll hunt you back down, and pour salt in your wounds. Scream and cry, little demon. The world doesn't care for a pitiful thing like you." - Myself (from a poem written seven years ago)
-o-oOo-o-
All it takes is one tiny little mistake to ruin everything.
Vlad Masters knew this well, due to his unique ghastly condition being induced by such a tiny little mistake. But he was a proud man. A vain man. He never made such stupid mistakes in his like. He double, triple, quadrupedal checked everything he's ever done after that day. There simply wasn't any room for mistakes and accidents in his life anymore. Error was for the weaker man.
He could and would deny it all he wanted, his denial changed none of the facts. It was his fault this had happened.
And all he did was forget to make sure the screen door had shut all the way before walking down to put his briefcase in his car.
Such a small, simple little detail. He'd closed it when he walked back up to lock the door and turn off the lights, but the damage was already done. While he was distracted, a snow white feline, ever curious of her master's doings, had nudged the door open and fallowed him out. He hadn't even looked down at her when she say in front of the bushes beside the stairs. So she watched him, head tilting in a bemused fashion, as he got in the car and drove off. The noise of the engine was uncomfortably loud for her sensitive ears, but she remained where she was. She was loyal; she knew to never run away from home very far. Bad things happened to her if she did, and she was not keen on returning to that kind of a lifestyle.
She couldn't hear him anymore, so she slunk carefully out onto the cold pavement. The stones were uncomfortable on her pads, and she did not like the biting wind tugging on her fur. She wanted inside, in her fluffy, warm bed among her catnip toys. And she wanted it right now.
She retreated back, up the stairs to the elaborate front door. She tried pushing it-after all, pushing is what got her out here in the first place-but it didn't budge. She tried again, pressing her face against it harder. Still nothing. She clawed at it a few times, the sound of claws made on the door just barely louder than the morning wind. Not to be deterred, she scratched again and again, and began to meow. Every once in a while, she would turn back to the road her master had gone down, to see if he would come back to let her back in. Surely, he knew she didn't want to be out here?
Eventually, she gave up, and just laid by the door, her paws tucked under her. She watched, and waited. She was patient...most of the time.
It was so, so long before she heard the grumbling of the machine he used to leave. She had smelled rain on the wind for a while, but she was lucky it had to to pour. There was no covering over where she was laying. Her ears twitched towards the driveway, and the grumbling got louder. Her tail began to flick back and forth, part in ecstasy, part in irritation. How dare he make her wait so long paired evenly with oh yay he's home I can get back inside now.
She was a patient cat. Most of the time.
Being ignored was not one of those times. She pushed her lean frame off the stones and bolted out to greet him, and maybe express her indignation.
She stopped in the headlights of the machine, meowing lightly. The machine didn't stop.
All it takes is one tiny little mistake to ruin everything.
He could and would deny it all he wanted, his denial changed none of the facts. It was his fault this had happened.
He'd been distracted, when he had been pulling into his driveway. One of his assistants had texted him, asking which forms needed to be turned in by the next morning. It wouldn't have bothered him so much, if this same assistant hadn't asked the same exact thing twice before he'd left the office. He'd contemplated just not responding to the text, but experience with past morons told him that if he didn't, the forms that needed to be sent it wouldn't be. So he started to reply, not quite noticing the blob of white that barreled into his way. A reflected light, perhaps, if he'd taken the time to question it. He hadn't, but it wouldn't have changed anything.
The feeling of his front tire hitting something solid yet squishy was one he'd never ever forget.
All in all, it was the loud screech that had made him slam on the breaks. He unbuckled his seat belt, and exited the vehicle. A squirrel, he thought, or perhaps a bunny or fox. Such animal casualties were common, though he'd personally never hit anything before. Rounding around to the side and kneeling down, he looked under the belly of the machine.
White fur, stained red.
Just a rabbit, he thought.
She yowled in pain. His phone dropped from limp fingers.
He slowly pulled her from under the vehicle, his heart in his throat. Sleek build, long tail, angular adorable face. She whimpered and yowled, each noise inflicting a deeper and deeper wound on his already injured heart. She was limp in his hands, her tail crooked and her legs broken. Her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe. He didn't want to believe it was her; after all, she was a strictly indoor cat. Why would she be outside? How could she have been outside?
But the black collar with a golden name tag didn't lie.
He'd run over his own Maddie.
Now she was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it. The nearest vet was a half an hour away.
He cradled her broken, bleeding body closer to his chest, completely ignoring the cold rain that began to fall. She yowled again, protesting weakly at being manhandled when she was in so much pain. Pain he'd forced upon her. She cracked open one eye, her pupils struggling to adjust to the darkening evening light. The beautiful golden eyes that had captured his heart the first moment he saw them were glossy and distant. Her whiskers tickled his ear.
She began to purr.
Vlad began to sob, tripping over his own words as he tried to apologize and beg for a miracle at the same time.
But he knew how the world worked, and he knew deep down inside he was asking for too much. Nothing could save her, nothing could undo this, nothing was going to be alright. This was how it always was with him. Everything he came to love and care for was always-without fail-taken from him. His friends, Maddie, Daniel, his perfect son, his mansion, this Maddie...Always. It was the worlds way of kicking him. Karma, perhaps. But he never deserved any of it, so why, why, must it take the few things that he was content with?! Why could it not allow him just one little piece of happiness?! Hadn't he been through enough?!
Her purrs weakened in his ear, and he just kept whispering so many 'I'm sorry''s.
He couldn't blame Jack for this. He couldn't even blame Daniel. This was all him. He was his own worst enemy. Perhaps, he'd always known that.
She shifted a little, and he felt her painfully rough tongue on his cheek. Broken, bleeding and dying by his error, she still gave him kisses. Still purred as he held her. It hurt him to the deepest parts of his core.
All too quickly, she stopped, and he cried all the harder.
