One Shot

Hitchhiking

PROMPT

56). "If you ever compare them to vermin again, I'll beat the s*** outta you!"

Humans can be wonderful, giving, accepting creatures. They can shine a light in the darkest of times, providing aid and stability to those who need it. They provide hope to the hopeless, meals to the hungry, and endure the most wicked and unfortunate of circumstances if it is for someone they love.

Perhaps that's why they could justify treating us so poorly...

Their kindness simply ran out.

Their tolerance could only go so far.

The cruelty built up and needed a place to vent like steam from a compression chamber.

We - that is... us pets - are not human, even though the only thing that makes us different is our size. Pets are, in essence, much smaller humans, the tallest of us reaching only six-and-a-half or so inches tall - and that was saying something. I, myself, am a solid five and a fifth inches tall, but who is counting?

Certainly not my so-called owners.

They could care less about me with the way they treated me before discarding me – literally. Up until that point, I had never known that humans could be decent creatures.

I remember like it was yesterday when everything really began. After being trained and "properly conditioned," I was sold to one family as a birthday present for a little girl as her first pet. It was terrifying. Instead of a gerbil or fish, they picked me.

Little did I know it was going to only get worse there for several years.

The girl who "owned" me was a brat through and through. Her screams were ear shattering, but her tendency to hit whatever wasn't cooperating was far worse. The bruises on my body left me a purple-yellow lump most days. I lost count of how long I was with them honestly.

It wasn't until she broke my arm, however, that she decided to show me the only mercy I had ever received from her, but it was far from that at the time.

She threw me away.

She tossed me into that odorous hot pink tin can lined in thick black bags.

"Audrey! Please! Don't do this. I-I-I-I'll get better. Just..."

"Broken toys go in the trash. You are broken. So, you go in the trash. Good-bye."

The lid snapped shut and, in a moment, I was plunged into darkness which lasted for hours. The last thing I saw were here dark eyes and wide toothy grin.

Haunting.

She was ten. She should've known better. No. She did know better and chose to do the wrong thing.

I slipped into unconsciousness from pain after trying several times to climb and claw my way out of the bag among the various snack bags that were half eaten. It was a miracle I didn't slip into shock, because the next thing I knew was that I was being jostled around, taken out with the rest of the trash.

I tried shouting, but nothing happened; at least, nothing happened until the bag was still for a few more hours. While in the dark expanse of the bag, I felt another massive jostle again before the inside was flooded with light.

I remember my eyes adjusting just in time to see two pale green eyes widen before the impending digits of doom reached in after me. Trapped at the bottom of the bag and trying to protect my injured arm, I snapped out of my trance. I tried getting away and managed to land a solid punch on his finger, which, to my surprise, made his fingers retract.