Porsha Crystal

I didn't sleep at all that night. I should have known I wouldn't, but I hadn't thought that far ahead. I thought that I'd fight my dad a little, be really scared, and go home. I hadn't thought about Johnny pulling me to the side, saying that maybe I should stay with him for a little bit. I hadn't predicted the way Dad would lunge for me, his claws almost touching me. I didn't think about the way I'd be sobbing all night, shaking in bed while trying to make sense of what had happened. Dad wasn't a monster. He wouldn't disown me. Dad was a murderer. He disowned me. I couldn't make the dots connect and I was too tired to really put any effort into it.

After way too long, I realized that I really didn't want to sleep. As soon as I went to sleep I'd just be having nightmares, sleeping and experiencing the same day over and over again. I didn't want that. I didn't want that at all. It would be scary and bad and just the thought of it made me start crying all over again, curling my paws over my eyes and wrapping my tail around myself as if that would make me any warmer. It just made me think about the chill of the bed, the way I only had one blanket in a house with no heating. I was cold and I hated the bed I was in and I was such a brat to be thinking about that right now. If Johnny hated me for complaining about his bed I wouldn't blame him. I wouldn't blame anyone for hating me.

Instead of stewing in sadness I made myself get up. It was something I had gotten pretty good at over the years. Dad didn't care how long I stayed in bed, what with my fancy tutors and all to ensured I passed school and "didn't bring even more shame upon the family," but the tutors did, and they always fussed if I didn't get up. I liked to think my friends would, but it wasn't like I had many. I wasn't the brightest bulb in the box but I knew that just about all of my friends were wannabes who were trying to get close to my dad. They all flaked once I told them I couldn't really influence him over things that mattered.

Johnny wasn't like that, though. He'd invited me to stay in his place, even though I had wrinkled my nose when I walked in. Even though I'd been shocked that anyone lived like that. It wasn't a horrible place. I'd seen worse on TV. It just only had two beds even though there were about six people in it. And it only had one bathroom. And about three blankets. Still, I was grateful that he had let me stay. As much as I hated being stuck outside of my house, I had to admit I felt a lot safer surrounded by six gorillas than I did alone at my place. Johnny had even let me have the bed while he and some of his buds slept on the couch and floor so I would feel more comfortable. I'd feel really bad waking him up for comfort.

So I was happy when it turned out he'd never fallen asleep.

"Hey, Johnny?" I asked quietly, trying not to wake up anyone else in the gang. I felt bad calling them a gang when my dad's goons were way worse people than they were, but they seemed to consider themselves a gang of friends. "You awake?"

"Yeah," Johnny replied in that funny accent of his. It was also silly for me to call his accent funny when mine was just as funny, but I was willing to admit that we both sounded kinda silly sometimes. "Are you alright? Is your bed okay?"

That was all it took for me to snap. I was in Johnny's house, talking to him in the middle of the night, risking waking up his entire family, and he was asking me if my bed was alright. Of course it was fine. I hated it so much but I loved it because it was so nice of Johnny to offer it to me. "Yeah, it's fine. The bed, yeah. I just can't sleep." I could hardly talk to him through my tears. Even before I was done talking I was sinking to the ground and hating myself for how loudly I was crying. I wasn't supposed to show my emotions. I wasn't supposed to be the weak link. Yet there I was, letting near-strangers see me be a crying mess.

"Oh, hey, uh yeah? You're okay, you're okay," Johnny said, panic tinging his voice while he tried to figure out what to do. I rubbed my eyes and tried to get rid of my tears even while he was talking, not wanting to freak him out. He was being so nice and I was making him panic. No wonder dad hates me, I couldn't stop myself from thinking. I could tell myself it was a stupid thought and I could yell at the thought to go away, but that didn't mean I didn't believe it. It didn't stop it from being the first that that broke into my mind because it was right, because everyone hated me and I couldn't blame anyone for hating me and-

I was ripped from my cycle of thoughts when two strong arms wrapped themselves around me. For a second I pulled away. I scratched at them until they backed off. I had to make sure I could get away. I had to get up and get to Johnny and his dad because they would protect me from whoever was trying to grab me. I was a wolf but they were gorillas they could outfight me and they could protect me when I hadn't slept in days and my dad had attacked me. The arms reached for me again, more gently this time, and I growled just to get away from them because why were they still trying to grab me?

"No no no it's ok," I heard vaguely, processing that the voice clearly wasn't my dad's. That didn't mean it was safe. Dad had other guys. That's why I was in a weird house, not in my own house. "It's me; it's Johnny; I've got you." I recognized Johnny's voice. I could tell that he was telling the truth, that he was trying to protect me. Little by little I let myself relax into his arms and sob into his shoulder. Little by little I let myself feel safe.