Saving Kitty | OLD | ✔

Twenty Nine | End of Me

"Black and white melt into grey,

Til' every truth is stripped away."

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Kitty didn't want to open her eyes. Everything hurt – she wasn't sure if it was worse than when she awoke only a couple of hours ago. Or was it a couple of hours ago? She couldn't remember. A human-like groan left her lips, and she felt something soft covering her body. Forcing her eyes opened, she ignored the glare coming from outside the windows.

Pushing herself up, she froze. Staring down she saw pale, dirty arms; her left was full of dark red, ugly marks. That meant she wasn't a wolf. So was that all a dream?

Taking in her surroundings, she found that she wasn't in the basement. But she wasn't in her room either. Wooden walls greeted her, only a couple of pieces of furniture. There was a set of drawers, a chair and a bedside table next to the double bed she was sat on. A candle sat on top of it. Kitty guessed she'd find matches in the bedside table's drawer.

It was familiar – all too familiar – but where was she? Letting out a small noise of pain, her hands cradled her head.

Trees blurred past. The wind whipped through her fur. She couldn't even take a moment to enjoy the run. She couldn't enjoy the fly-like feeling. Instead, she dove under low hanging branches, jumped over fallen twigs. Her legs wouldn't stop.

Her paws dug into the ground, skidding her to a halt. A blonde, shaggy wolf let out a deafening snarl.

Gasping, she looked around her. Still in the room. She pinched herself to make sure it wasn't a dream. Swinging her legs off, she let out a small grunt. Her body was sore. Yellow, green and faded brown spots covered her. No wonder she felt sore – she looked like a well-used punch bag.

Wrapping the sheet around her, she stood up. Her legs wobbled, and for a moment she thought she'd go crashing into the floor. Luckily, she stayed upright. Dragging her feet, she made her way to the window. Aside from the skeletons of trees, there wasn't much she could see.

At least I'm not in the basement, she thought. Then guilt slid up her. She'd left Brandon in there. No, she shook her head, I'm going back. No matter what, I'm going to get him out.

Pulling herself away from the window, she slowly walked over to the door. Her legs still felt weak. But they'd carry her; now wasn't the time to rest. Who knew what her father was cooking up? With Caleb egging him on, whispering ideas in his ears... she had no time to waste. There was more at stake now than when she'd left.

As she pulled open the door, she gasped.

Looking round, she saw that the hallway was empty. No guards. But then, there was never anyone posted – who would be stupid enough to try and escape? Who would burn themselves on the bars? Ignoring her thoughts, she darted out. Luckily, she knew the easiest way out of the house without being seen. She'd need to go to Nathan's room. His window lead to the back garden, and there was a roof she could slide down. Nathan had often sneaked out using it.

The only problem was that she had no hands to lift the glass pane. And she would have to sneak past her father's bedroom to get to Nathan's.

Within seconds, her vision returned. Her knuckles were white from gripping the sides of the wooden door. A slight crack marred the maroon wood. Cursing mentally, she wiped beads of sweat from her forehead and walked into the adjourning room.