Petals by definition are segments of the corolla of a flower. Petals are often known to be beautiful, to go freely where the wind takes them.
My mother gave me the name Petal, for the black spots lining my silver cat that looked like petals. I grew up in a nest of three Twolegs and a kin of five; including my mother, my father, my brothers, and I. Most kits would never question the family they were born into, I was not one of those kits. I knew from the moment I opened my eyes that I was different. My parents adored my brothers, Cappuccino and Hoops; Cappuccino was the brave one of the family, taking on the neighborhood bullies and protection us. Hoops was outgoing, he stood high above Cap and I; and on top of that, the Twolegs loved him. But, where do I stand compared to them? Nowhere. My parents loved Hoops and Cap more than me since we began to walk.
I am a failure to them, anything I did was never good enough and was meet with criticism. Not from my mother, but from my father. It also never helped that my brothers teased me, like any normal littermate would do, but theirs were much worse and extremely harsh. They belittled me, called me, unworthy and unwanted, scorned me, left me purposely so that I would get lost. The bulling never helped either, the neighborhood cats took ever chance they got; to harass me, attack me, corner me. It became a daily routine, until I snapped that is. I ranked my claws down on one of the cats face and he went screeching and bleeding back to his Twoleg, who in turn complained to one of my Twolegs. My father chewed me out with my mother and brothers on looking, but I couldn't bring myself to care.
I felt powerful in that moment and nothing could take that away. So when my Twolegs scheduled me to see that cutter's, I took that opportunity and left. At the age of thirteen moons, I had left the only thing I considered "Family." They may be my kin, but I could tell they never loved me. It was time that I followed the wind.