Free Fall (A Furry Story)

II

What my father does is more or less an exaggerated form of his usual routine.

The next day, the bruises that illustrate my chest blossom like lavender in the morning light. I sit up with a pained groan, and put a hand to my side. I should examine myself before I get ready, so I shift my body in front of the bedroom mirror to view a pitiful version of myself.

A solemn wolf is staring back at me, with a coat grey and black fur, and dull brown eyes with dark bags underneath. Thick hair that tickles my eyes hangs over, just long enough to necessitate a small trim. A skinny formed figure, ribs slightly sticking out. Small arms and legs, with no muscle mass; there's almost literally skin and bones, nothing else. I'm not even really that big, in all honesty. I am the direct antithesis of anything worthy of affection or love...

I let out another groan as I get up and out of bed, slowly dragging my feet along the soft carpeted floor. My lowly thoughts fuel the grueling gears of my motions, painstakingly working through the day as if everything else might be alright. I somehow manage to get some clothes on, despite the pain, and the only other thing I can do is just lie back down on my bed.

My back lands on my mattress, and my eyes gloss over the illustrated etchings of the ceiling above me. An artist was paid to decorate the entire mansion, and was well compensated for their work. Tiny angels float among the heavens, joyous and shrouded in light as the demons below watch and slink in the shadows of the inky darkness. There's no middle ground here, only light and dark.

I shake my head, and roll around onto my side. I'm getting wrapped up in odd thoughts again. My mind tends to examine bits of the world and expand them into clarity, stimulating me in a way that would overwhelm most others. My parents don't think that I pay much attention, and that I often zone out in the middle of a conversation; it's just that most of the time, I'm paying too much attention to everything.

For some odd reason, though, I find my mind lingering on a sole thought.

I scoff, and push the thought away. It's silly, really. He isn't worth any second thoughts, Sam.

Since Mother and Father are out of town today, I'll mostly be left to my own devices. The servants, of course, are always here, watching and making sure I'm always at home, though it feels like I'm the only free one here. When Mother and Father are on one of their trips, I have the whole mansion to myself, although I mostly stay in my room unless I'm hungry or need a bit of fresh air.

Today is one of those days where I need some air.

I painfully slide on a jacket, seething when the tight fabric pushes against the bruises that litter my skin. The pain subsides, and I slowly gain my composure to open my door and walk out of the room.

Of course, there is already a servant awaiting me. They like to pester me on the finer details, asking questions like, "Have you slept well this evening? Would you like me to dust the third library, or the second? A bath has been drawn for you, if you take interest in such matters."

I don't take baths anymore, and it bothers me that no one else has taken a notice to it. Not that... many people notice me anyway, especially not when I'm naked and cleaning myself.

Anyways.

Each one that comes up to me is soon waved off, whisked away to do some unintelligible request invented just to regain some solace. I don't enjoy their nagging much; I'd rather just keep to myself.

Navigating the mansion has become a secondhand activity for me now. There's so many rooms that appear to just pop up out of nowhere, and it's always interesting to see what is done with each one. Mother had a horticultural club at one point during the summer, but now that it's nearly December, doubt it's there now. Father, naturally, has a casino in town to cater his gambling fits, though it doesn't help that he has a room dedicated to card playing. One of my older brothers kept a library fairly clean, but he's in med school now, so I doubt it.