Here you have it, my entry for .Tuggy's spark sentence contest!
It isn't slash, even if it seems like it.
Memories Consume
Mistoffelees awoke in a cold sweat, panting heavily.
"It was just a dream, just a...dream." He murmured, attempting to stop the frightened shaking now wracking his body.
Mistoffelees relaxed somewhat when he heard the soft pitter-pat of rain on the roof of his pipe. The rain curtained his childhood from him, the last time. The tuxedo stood and rubbed his arms.
"Come on, come on." He muttered, squinting his eyes against the memories and trying to focus on the sound of the rain.
The memories refused to be ignored, however, and were forced to the front of Mistoffelees' mind.
"Mommy!" A young Mistoffelees squealed in pain, crawling to a far corner of the locked room he was in.
"You're magical. Attack me!" A red tom the kit had once trusted stared down at him, his paws burning with an angry red fire. Mistoffelees looked piteously up at him and clambered slowly up to his feet, wobbling on unsteady three-year-old legs.
"Get on with it." The red tom – whom Mistoffelees would eventually know as the dreaded Macavity – stepped menacingly forward.
"I'm trying!" The kitten replied nervously, staring half-hopefully at his paws. A small spark lit up his paws with a loud snap.
"Attack!" Macavity shouted, clenching his paws. Mistoffelees halfheartedly started at him, his tiny kitten claws extended. He yelped when his father swiped a heavy paw at his gut, throwing him into the wall.
"Mommy!" Mistoffelees repeated, scrambling further back against the wall.
"Mommy, mommy, he's hurting me." Macavity said mockingly. Stepping away from the young tuxedo kit, he flung one of the two doors open, revealing a worried tuxedo queen.
"Mommy, you came!" Mistoffelees crawled up to her as she ran forward, scooping him up and nuzzling his forehead.
The tuxedo shook his head in an attempt to clear it, and let his breath out in a long, slow hiss.
"Today is not a promising one." Mistoffelees meowed to himself, slowly sifting through the semi-organized expanse of his den. "Past the broken potion bottle, yes. Then I think I hid it under the old lamp." The magician made his way to said item and gently pulled a worn book out from underneath it.
"There you are." Mistoffelees smiled fondly at the book, sitting down on the floor and opening it.
The first page showed a pregnant tuxedo queen – his mother- blushing and waving at the camera with a smile. It was the only picture that showed her without any signs of abuse.
"Mommy..." Mistoffelees whispered hoarsely, fingering the picture as though he could pull her out of it. The tuxedo slowly flipped the page, which revealed a slightly more worn version of the same queen. She was smiling wanly and proudly showing off the tiny bundle of black and white fur in her arms. A newborn Mistoffelees.
Another turn of the page. This time, the queen had faint scratches along her side, and the year-old Mistoffelees had a pale pink mark on his white bib. The abuse had started, before the magician could even straighten his own bow-tie.
"I miss you...so much more than you'll ever know." A silver tear rolled down Mistoffelees' cheek and onto the yellowed paper which he held so tenderly in his paws.
The page turned. There was the magician at two, his mother hiding him almost protectively behind her long headfur. She was bruised in many places, and cut in many more. The beginning of the end.
Mistoffelees looked at that for only a moment, unable to bear the sight of what his father had done to his beloved mother.
The page turned almost of its own accord. In the next picture, three-year-old Mistoffelees was hiding behind his mother's leg. The two tuxedos were bruised and cut more than ever before.
"Hey, Mistoffelees, I found a can of pink paint and some body glitter. I was thinking we could...Oh, you're looking at that again." Rum Tum Tugger sat down beside his nephew and put an arm around his shoulder.
"Y-yeah..." Mistoffelees sighed heavily as more tears rolled off his cheeks and onto the book, staining the paper.
"You still have me and Munkustrap, oh, and fatty." Rum Tum Tugger smiled cockily at the tuxedo, who glared at him.
"Don't call Bustopher that!" Mistoffelees sniffled. "He's all I have left of my mother." The tears began to fall in earnest, hitting the ground like so many raindrops.
"There, there." Tugger gently embraced the tom he and Munkustrap had practically raised from the age of five. Mistoffelees buried his head in the Maine Coon's fur, ragged sobs escaping him. He could remember the last time someone had held him like this, the last time he'd really cried.
Five-year-old Mistoffelees clutched at a pregnant Demeter's headfur, sobbing uncontrollably.
"He killed my mommy!" The tuxedo wailed, soaking the black and gold queen's shoulder with his tears. Demeter hummed an old lullaby to him and gently rocked back and forth on the cold stone floor.
"He killed her!" The little tomkit couldn't be comforted, in fact, it seemed as though the longer she hummed, the louder he screamed.
Unlike most kittens that age, Mistoffelees had learned quickly about death. It wasn't surprising, considering the fact that his father had already been a serial murderer long before Mistoffelees was even conceived.
"I'm s-sorry." The magician hiccuped, wiping his eyes and looking apologetically up at his uncle, whose shoulder and mane were soaked with salty tears.
"It's all right, buddy. A tom with as many problems as you needs to cry sometimes." Tugger glanced at Mistoffelees. The tuxedo's eyes were red and puffy from crying, but he still managed to glare angrily at the Maine Coon. Instead of replying, however, Mistoffelees simply stood without a word and put his book back into the abyss of his den that only he could navigate with certainty.
Tugger stood and hugged his nephew suddenly, smiling when the tom's sniffles quieted and eventually stopped altogether.
"Thank you." Mistoffelees meowed softly.
"Everyone needs it sometimes." Tugger replied nonchalantly, cuffing him on the ear like a father would. The father Mistoffelees never got to have.
The tuxedo smiled as Tugger left. He would never get completely over the premature death of his mother, but he could put the memories at rest now, for a time.