Darkest Before Breaking Of The Dawn

Wasted

The unfocused live footage on his computer was coming and going in and out. Whether this meant the rodent was falling unconscious–sleeping–or dying, he was not sure. He hoped he wasn't dying–not unless he were to die by his hand.

Impatiently switching it off, his attention was brought to an annoyingly notable bite mark on his hand. The last reminder of what was probably the only time the rodent got the upper hand and left his mark on him while in his captivity. And of the odd events that followed.

When he woke up from the night, days before the rodent was gone, his memory of that night was–murky. He had been drunk, only noticing his injury–as well as the rodents' injuries the next morning. But those injuries–the ones in the rodents–private parts–had puzzled him as well as shocked him.

During the raccoons various provoked, though admittedly mostly unprovoked beatings, he might have aimed kicks and punches in those intimate areas sometimes. But he never deliberately aimed to do damage to that extent.

But he would be lying if he hadn't admitted it brought him satisfaction to see the state the creature was left in that night. Not even his hangover from that nights drinking could ruin the gratifyingly pathetic sight of the rodent for him.

Still he remembered why that satisfaction had turned into disgust at himself. At his own regrettably grotesque actions that led to the mess he found that morning. Actions that still haunted him–as well as profoundly confused him.

Nineteen days ago......

Waking up with a splitting head and hangover tempted him back to sleep. But still the sight of the rodents heavily breathing–and bleeding body–not too far from him had his attention now. Scratching his head he tried to remember....

Still the events of last night, beyond coming back here and passing out from his night out drinking were still a complete blur. Strangely enough he remembered flashes of beating–strangling–shouting at the rodent but......

"Ugh–what happened rodent?" He couldn't stop himself from smirking despite the hangover, at the tiny crumpled form–shaking and bloodied. He sat up from his position on the ground, groaning as his headache and his vision spun.

In response, the rodent shuddered, appearing to curl more into his side. The scientist crawled closer and for a surprising moment he found himself taken aback by the extent of the rodents' injuries–and the areas he was injured. Clearing his dry throat he tried grabbing at the rodent's attention once again.

"Oh my–you're a mess. I sure did a number on you last night didn't I rodent?"

The lack of an answer irked him and his amused smirk became a deep frown of displeasure. That combined with the head-splitting headache provoked growing fury in him. He hardly had enough coordination right now to beat the rodent like he would normally do–but he could easily still do some damage.

"What? Now you're mute or just deaf?" He snarled out–though he was aware the rodents' hearing and sight were beginning to dwindle from various beating. He suspected infections would soon appear–still the rodent flinched so he must have heard him. "I'm talking to you–you hear me, worthless little pest!?"

The rodent whimpered surprisingly high pitched and childlike, but that wasn't a good enough response for him. Furiously he reached a rough hand over–and soon found the bite mark. Analysing it, he found though it still stung a bit and was a bloody mess, it stopped bleeding. He grit his teeth at the sight of it—

Then his blazing eyes turned on the rodent. "You–you little disgusting little beast! YOU–" His voice began to raise in volume as he snatched the rodent by the oddly enough even more scratched up bloodied scruff of his shaking back. Without an ounce of remorse, he dragged him closer. "–FILTHY RAT!"