BEASTLY

x. daddy issues

May be triggering for those with relationship issues with a parent. Ask before proceeding.

Mitch Grassi

"Son, I'm home!" The annoying, extremely fake voice rung throughout the house. The clinking sound of keys disrupted the sudden silence that followed, indicating that Mike had probably set his keys on the table by the door. And then he'll take off his coat and sloppily sling it towards the coat rack, possibly missing it because he doesn't care. He also wouldn't have brought his luggage with him because he knows he won't be home long. He'll also smooth out his mustache as he sees the mirror hanging near our spiral staircase. I know all of these little habits because, well, he is too damn predictable. And then he'll get irritated when Naomi d-- "Naomi? Why don't I smell dinner on the table?"

See? Predictable. I listened as Naomi left the kitchen, indubitably smiling as wide as possible. "Hello, Mr. Grassi. I've made chicken marsala with all of your preferences, and there is a glass of Chardonnay ready for you. Dinner was just finished, as promised according to your time preferences." This woman is a saint, truly. She has to put up with Mike more than I do. I sometimes wish I weren't so irritable towards her, but I've got no one to thrust my frustrations on.

"This is why I pay you, Naomi. Thank you." Wow, courtesy. It's rare for him. I listened from the den, hoping he'd ignore my existence. He always ignores me. But he needed to know what had happened. I touched my face, making sure it wasn't a dream. The marks in my skin were as permanent as the damage he does to this family every day. All he's good for is money, and I'd trade all of the money in the world just to have my mom back.

I heard rustling footsteps towards the dining room and the familiar grunt of the wooden chair being pulled across tile. He'd probably sat down for dinner. And his silence indicated he wasn't waiting for me. He was probably hungry from his long flight and ride back home. I hadn't eaten a solid meal since the change. A week of saltines and self hatred and my stomach still felt full of loathing. It wasn't that I was starving myself on purpose. I just was too disgusted to even think about food. But, damn, that chicken marsala smelled good. I'd get some of it eventually.

I wondered how long I could put off meeting Mike. Maybe I wouldn't even have to see him the entire time he was home. I hardly ever did, honestly. He would make it very easy for me. A passing glance and a subtle acknowledgement was all I'd get.

So, I decided it then and there, hiding in the den, that I'd hide this new face from Mike. I almost felt relieved, knowing that it would be my secret. I'd figure out how to deal with my life later. But for now, the only person that knew about this ugly face of mine was me, and that's how I intended for it to be. I could get a job online. No one would have to see this.

And then, it happened. Wyatt found me in the den, lovingly attached to me the moment he found me. Wyatt weaved in and out of my legs, craving my attention as he always did.

"Wyatt, stop!" I whispered as quietly as possible. He didn't take my sternness seriously, which is truly typical of him. And then he meowed loudly before jumping up towards me. I instinctively caught him, though I wanted to throw him outside for making noise. Maybe Mike didn't hear it. Maybe he's too caught up in himself to have heard me.

I held Wyatt in my arms as the house remained silent, the only noise being the persistent purr from the annoying naked cat in my arms. I almost felt like him now... he was completely bald and people called him ugly, but I thought he was the most beautiful thing. Now people would look at Wyatt and think he was angelic compared to my looks. This scared the hell out of me. And so, I did the one thing that soothed me. I pet Wyatt, stroking his furless body from his head down to his tail, just like he liked it. Hearing his happiness made me smile, if for a moment.