The Unusual Guardian

Chapter 9: Emotions

The rage radiating from my eyes would terrify any sane being on the planet, but Erik is not entirely sane, and he does not consider himself a human; yet, besides the point, drugged-up Erik is a messy recipe of emotions.

At first I glared from underneath the piano, viciously cursing him in my head. How dare he take drugs! That vile, incompetent man! He shoved me aside that asinine...ooh...asshole! The lion that resides in my body was riled up. It refused to tame until my ears perked up at Erik's breathing pattern.

He was breathing deeply, his fingers grazed the keys of his piano so softly, that you'd think it would crumble under a slight prick of a finger, before playing the most lethargic, intense, emotive music of your life!

The emotions behind the music were strong, but the way he played hypnotized me. It was almost sexual. The way he would thrust his body to the rhythm, how his fingers caressed the keys, how he poured his very soul into his music. My ears would flatten at the dynamics, but my heart was pounding to hear every single note. Only when he stopped to jot a quick note onto his sheet paper would the spell break momentarily. My glare dissipates, and all I could do was admire the man at the piano.

This continues for hours. Until the stars in the sky shine brightly, twinkling down at us. Erik stops his harsh playing, rubbing his chin in thought. I take this moment to flee to the window, jumping onto the ledge so I can observe the stars. A breeze ruffles my fur. The smell of fish hits me, and I realize I am starving. And thirsty. When Erik was playing, it was like everything was fulfilled; not a thing was wrong with the world.

Erik chuckles maliciously. My tail flicks. Can I convince him to feed me? I scuttle to him. Erik massages his wrists, gently prodding his thin skin. His mask is lifted so his mouth is visible. I meow gently. Erik freezes, then grins widely, like a creepy clown. "You are still here, highness?"

Internally, I slump. I should have left him alone.

"You are a curious thing," he mutters. His shoulders jerk upward as he barks a laugh. Eyeing me, he slinks to the floor. My head cocks in wonder. He barks another laugh, his finger settling against his lips. "Shh. Don't tell Nadir I told you, but I do think you act like a human."

I want to laugh. If I was human, I would laugh. I would also be a bit disturbed.

I meow, mainly out of concern. Erik leans forward, resting his stomach on the floor, his hand on his chin. Suddenly, I can vision him as a boy.

"Pretty girl." Erik reaches out a hand, then abruptly pulls back. "Ma mere used to tell me that I could never have pretty things, but I always craved beauty." Erik snorts, finding whatever is running through his mind humorous in this dark moment. "Beasts need beauty to live. Maybe that's why I am dead!" Erik continues to laugh, all the blissful tone gone from his voice-this is true ugly. His head is on the floor, slightly maneuvering his mask. Then he's quiet. His shoulders shake, little wisps of air escaping from his mouth, a sniffle sounds from the nose I know he doesn't have.

I gaze down in sorrow. And, with much regret, I feel pity. All the force in the world could not rid me of the pity I feel.

"Maybe that's why beautiful things die around me. Beasts and beauties aren't meant to be together. I am a curse-the devil's child!" His hands clasp themselves behind his head, sheltering himself from the world that's treated him horribly.

"I am death, which is why things will never live around me." A small whimper. "Sasha..."

The name strikes me as familiar, then it hits me. Sasha! The dog he had as a child! Is that why he feels like he can't take care of me? She died in a ghastly fashion, but it wasn't his fault. Deep inside, I know a child would feel that way, they would feel like it was their fault; guilt like that is hard to banish, especially if you were never told differently.

"People are cruel!" He laments loudly, his fist banging the floor. My tail poofs as I flinch. "They are horrendously ugly to themselves...to animals. Oh! She didn't deserve to die. I should have stopped...she was my only friend."

Still sniveling like a child, I cautiously approach him. My face stretches until my nose dances over his hands, now gloved (a security blanket). I can smell ink and sweat. I also smell utter despair. I brush my whiskers against them, washing my scent on him. Erik gasps, head sticking up. His yellow eyes pierce mine. My face brushes his masked cheek, my tongue quickly grazing his ear and the ends of his hair. Erik sits up completely, hand against his head. I know I'm being extremely daring-this just feels right. Being as benign as possible, I step onto his lap, curling myself into a ball. I close my eyes, purring contentedly. I won't need food tonight-this will fulfill me for now.

The rustling of clothes alarms my ears, expecting him to get angry and throw me off his lap. Instead I feel a feather of a touch against my head. My paws begin to march on his pant leg. His touch is so gentle, like how he touched his piano. His scratches behind my ears. I note with delight that his gloves are off again. I don't think he would've done that sober. The way his hands play with my fur cause shivers to go up my spine. Slowly I feel sleep lull me into darkness as I hear Erik's last words: "Beautiful girl."