Authors notes: It has been a considerable time since I have actually written any fiction and even though this is rather short I hope this goes down well.

This story deals with some rather adult subject matter: in particular child abuse, so if such things upset you please do not read.

I have only watched the anime of Fruits Basket and not read the manga, if that is of any importance. I'm assuming that there would have been a Souma family doctor before Hatori, as I think he would have been too young when this is set.

Disclaimer: Fruits Basket does not belong to me, the characters do not belong to me, and I have absolutely no intention to make money off this piece.

He had to be quiet, it was important. She was angry again, and maybe, just maybe, if he was quiet enough, small enough, invisible enough she might not notice him. Might not become angrier. But no matter how quiet he tried to be - how still, his rapid panicked breaths, constrained to the tiniest barely noticeable puffs, rang out loud in the unnatural stillness.

He pushed himself further under the western-style bed positioned against the wall, inching back until he was huddled against the corner of walls at its head. He could barely hear her as she padded barefoot across the floor heading towards the living area. The strange crunch of broken glass and pottery under bare feet and the tell-tale change in the pattern of her steps told him that she was approaching the hallway. He tried to make himself smaller, pressing back into the walls until his shoulders hurt. His room, in which he was hiding, led off the hallway. Soon she'd be there, and then she'd find him.

He knew he shouldn't be scared, that she loved him, that hiding from her was being a bad child, but he was doing it for her own good. He was trying to stop her from being angry. He knew he deserved it and that he was a bad thing, after all that's what he'd been told all his life, and he wouldn't mind quite so much if her anger was only directed at him. But when she got angry like this she sometimes hurt herself, like now as she walked over the remains of the glassware and crockery that she'd destroyed during the pinnacle of her earlier rage. She shouldn't do that. She was cutting her feet.

The doctor would have to be called in order to fix them, and she hated it when Dr. Takashi came.

These days Dr. Takashi always insisted on checking on him as well, and after he left she'd get upset because she wasn't a bad mother: he was just clumsy, and he deserved it, really he did. He wished with all his heart that he was different, then she would be happy, she wouldn't get angry the way she did, and maybe he wouldn't be so scared of the stove, and matches, and her cigarettes. He knew he deserved it, but sometimes he got so scared he tried to fight her, and she'd have to restrain him and sometimes there'd be an accident and he'd hurt her (which was bad), or change (which was worse). If he changed she's start screaming, and sometimes she wouldn't stop for days, and what was worse is that she wouldn't come near him, not even to check the bracelet.

Her footsteps had gotten louder and he could see her legs approaching his hiding place. He screwed up his eyes really tight and held his breath hoping she wouldn't find him. But it didn't work, she made a guttural noise of anger and he felt a hand claw into his hair and use it to drag him out from under the bed. She kept dragging him, out of his room and down the hallway; she was heading for the kitchen. He tried not to fight, even though his heart was pounding in his chest and choking him. He was scared, so scared. So he screwed his eyes closed again and tried to tell himself that it didn't matter, that he deserved it, but he could still feel tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes.

He had to remember that he was the cat, and he deserved it.

Well, that's that.

Please feel free to review.