It's funny really, how life sometimes seems to drag on and at other times, seems to short. And yet, to remember it all is like you never really understood until you go through it again. And that is probably the worst part. Remembering. Because it all comes in flashes. Blinks of the time that was spent. And, you know that maybe it's a good thing that you went through it and have something more to guide you. But frightening to, because what happens now? What else could possibly happen? You don't know. And I think that that is the thing that scares us the most. Unknowing of what comes after these feelings. These uncontrollable things. Because, you don't know if it will ever happen again. Or whether or not it should.
I watched my dirty converse scrape against the cobble stone sidewalk, my hair creating a curtain that blocks out the whole world. Maybe that's how it should be. Or maybe I should let the world in... That's been my main concern for as long as my memory goes without them. What do I do about all of this? All these indescribable things. Do I tell someone? Do I leave it within me? I constantly struggle with my inner dragons, my inner war. This dark world that has been inside me since I learned who I was. But was only really accessed and begun to riot since this all started. I never understood what really happened. Or why. Maybe that's all for the best. Or maybe that's all for the worst.
I sigh and check the east, to see that it is beginning to lighten, the sky becoming more of a sapphire blue then the dark, rich, black blue color of the night. My time is almost up. I keep my face down as I walk swiftly through the quiet streets, trying to desperately keep out of sight. A person dressed in all black, with a white mask covering their face and white kitten ears poking out from their hair might raise suspicion. I can't cause that. Suspicion and the day have become my worst enemies. I keep from suspicion because I don't want to be found. The day is when they roam. Is when they come from hiding to move and live. I haven't figures out whether or not I want them to know of my existence. They think me dead. I don't know if it should stay that way or end, or come true, but for now, I stay away. Until I know things. Until I have it figured out.
I slip into a dark alley, quickly letting myself find shelter. I find it, a small corner between two buildings, a high brick fence and a broken chain link one. Hunching down, I quickly remove my black long sleeve shirt, my tight, almost legging like jeans, and my black boots. I remove my mask along with my headband on which my ears have been glued to. I postion myself on all fours and let myself slowly move through the Change. It's like boiling water that starts at my head and slowly works its way down. I lay still for a moment, allowing myself to breathe before I move out.
I'm not not huge, not the way He was. I'm slightly bigger than a German Shepard and can pass for one, too. For those who look too closely, a mix between a wolf and German Shepard. Sometimes, I'm in this form. At others, I'm a small kitten. But these pass few days, my dog form seems to be more to my liking.
Once I am steady and controlled, I get up. I sift through my clothes until I find the collar I was given about three years ago. They had taken me in, thinking I was just a normal dog in need of a home. I had gladly accepted the collar, knowing that I would easily be able to make quick escapes and be able to hide while like this when wearing the collar. I slipped it on, my head small enough to fit through. Once all was in order, I took my clothes and hid them in one of the empty crates that littered my small sanctuary. I pushed through the hole in which I had entered the place, my soft, sleek fur easily escaping anything it could have possibly snagged on. I shook myself when free and loped out into the early dawn.
The looming white house cast its shadow over most of the yard as I slowly crept forward. I needed to get into the back door, through the mud room, past the kitchen, living room and basement doorway, and then upstairs into His bedroom. That way, he doesn't know I leave at night. That I try and find ways out if they ever show chances of discovering or leaving me. I don't care so much if they leave me; the finding me out before I'm ready to tell them scares me. I can't have them knowing who I am before I'm ready for them to know. One, it will ruin my whole undercover purpose. Two, I don't want to have to run away after I got them back to a degree. Even He accepts me, takes care of me. Maybe it's because I accept him and take care of his family, my family, as well. I wouldn't dream of not taking care of them, of watching out for them. Now it's hardwired into my brain, protect my family, my pack. And if running away does that, I'll do it. That doesn't mean it won't hurt.
Mission accomplished. I curl up on the soft dog bed they had gotten me. When I'm situated, I think over the last three years.
They don't know who I am. Even He doesn't, which is quite a shocker since he should be able to tell my scent apart from the others. Also, he should have been able to tell that I'm a shapeshifter. So, I have passed as their German Shepard for three years. I have been taken on walks, been taken as an item to show off, been loved. As, Meijni, their loyal dog.
It's hard, not being able to tell them, with words, the answers to their questions, to their problems. Right now, Tori is having problems with her boyfriend. He doesn't seem to be loyal, and the problem is that she really likes him. Simon is slowly moving on from my 'death'. He still flirts and dates a new girl every day, but he isn't finding the fun he used to. And Him. The boy who cares for me the most. I know more about him then I ever did as a girl. He has withdrawn into himself. Locking out everything, everyone, except me. He talks to me, confesses to me. He tells me about what would happen if he ever found me again. If he ever saw me. How he would react, what he would say, what he'd do. I'm always there for that. I curl up beside him, put my small, amber/chocolate colored head in his lap, and listen. I nuzzle him when he begins to cry, I wag my tail when he laughs over something about me he remembers. It's those moments that I want him to know that I'm there, that I'm alive, that I love him. But I can't. And I never do. Maybe never will. But for the time being, I'm there for each of them in the ways that I can be.
And so, the three years passed quickly by, and I haven't left them yet. Which will probably be my downfall. But, for now, I'll sit right here. And watch Him sleep.
