Razor the Xweetok rested on his front paws. His eyes were shut tight as he moved around in his cramped spot in the Neopian pound.
He was scratching, tossing and turning in his lying down position.
The flat wooden floor, in which he slept on for 54 weeks, was feeling more and more uncomfortable every day.
He scratched his head fur and looked for a better position and closed his eyes a little more intensely now.
Telling himself the same things that he always told him when he felt sad…
…when he felt hopeless…
…when felt unloved…
"Vince…" he mumbled.
That person who loved him while he had him, but left him and all of his family.
"Vince…" a tear rolled down his cheek.
The vivid picture of his owner thrusting a tranquilizer into him flashed before his eyes.
On other days, this didn't bother him much, but somehow it bothered him a lot more this time.
"No!" he commanded himself.
All the pain and suffering was NOT what he wanted to carry in his heart. There more to a limited life than this.
Before drifting into delta sleep, Razor repeated the words he lives with, and keeps him living.
"You can't live with hate…you can't…"
Things were going to get better from there.