Random muses and prompts

Why Did You Go?

*kinda sensitive topic*

also kinda lost interest about a week into this no lie

     As the sky turned  light gray from the coming dawn, I returned home. It had been a long night. My human had locked me out of the house after he came home from work, and I had spent all night wandering the neighborhood. When I tried to go home, it had become too foggy and dark to properly see, and I got lost. Only when the faint morning light began to show did I find my home.

     I sat in front of the door, staring up with big doe eyes. He's woken up by now and he's noticed that I am not there. He'll let me in soon. He has to go to his day-home, the one that stresses him out, the one that makes him sad when he comes home. It hurts him, I know. Our home, the night-home, is much better. It's because I'm here, and I'm not at his day-home.

     Morning had claimed the sky, and there was still no sign of him letting me in. I begin to cry dumbly at the door, let me in. Let me in. You must've forgotten, you are supposed to feed me. And let me sleep with you. Don't forget how important I am to you.

      After a long time, I gave up and fell asleep beside the door. Birds sang, the air grew hot, yet I still waited patiently. It must've been almost noon when I felt hunger pulling me to my feet. I have never gone this long without eating. My human must've gotten sick.

     I stretch onto the door, and it creaks open. I leap backward in surprise. Ah, I decided, My human must've seen me and opened the door while I slept. Silly me.

     Regaining my confidence, I strut into the house.  The first place I went to was my food bowl. It was full and smelled fresh. I happily ate for the first time in hours. My water was a bit stale, but I could not complain. I was, at least a little, grateful.

     I went to take a nap on the bed. It smelled like him still. He wasn't there, but I think he had to leave for his day-home anyways. I fell asleep on his pillow. I dreamt of birds singing outside the window, of me leaping through to catch them.

     When I awoke, the day had mostly passed, and he wasn't home. I paced through the house, calling for him and ensuring that, if he was hiding to scare me, he would get a mighty clawing. I caught an odor from the living room.

     Ah-ha! I followed through the hallway. As I got closer to its source, I recoiled and turned back. It smelled unsafe. I did not like it being in my home. I went to the couch, eyeing the spot wearily. After nothing leapt from the depths to attack me, I ventured in again.

     I found the bathroom. There he was. I trotted towards him, and caught another uncomfortable smell. Blood?

     Human?

     I meowed at him. He did not so much as shift a little. I saw a little shift in his shoulders, though. I leapt onto his chest, trying to create a response. You've been hiding from me! Thank you for letting me in! Thank you for feeding me. Let's feed me again and go to bed. 

      He didn't move. I began realizing that he was covered in blood. Human? I tried to clean some of it away, but there was too much and it tasted too sour. I laid down on him, waiting for him to shake me off and let us continue our routine.

     I realized that he was gone when the next morning came. He had become cold, despite me doing my best to keep him warm. I left his side very little after that. Six times, I went to eat food or drink water. When my bowl was empty, I ate through the bag under the sink. Three times, I went outside and pawed at the neighbor's door. They never came over to see what was happening.

     It took a week for the humans to arrive.

     I could no longer sleep on his chest, or very near him at all. The air had grown tepid and sour. I slept as close as my nose could manage, which ended up being near his feet. I heard sirens outside, and managed to look up.

     In came a series of men, who lurched backwards at the smell from the bathroom. They looked at him, and one cried something loud and mournful. They were coming to take him away from me, permanently, that's what I knew. They pulled out a long, flat thing to put him on, and only then did they notice me.

     One swore when he saw me. He reached down to pet me. I didn't try to stop him. He patted my head. I don't like being pat. They collectively pull me from my human, and leave me alone in a closet. I hear them moving away.

     Will they leave me here?

     A few minutes later, someone came back. She was wailing. It was a pitiful sound, and I was half tempted to, despite my natural silence, join her. I wanted to be free, and I wanted my human, more than anything else.

     She opened the door, and I looked up at her. This was someone my human knew. She was much older than him. I never knew for sure, but I thought she was his mother. She looked dreadful. Her mascara ran down her cheeks, her hands shook, and she looked hopeless.

     She reached down to me. I hesitantly accepted her affection. Within seconds, she began uncontrollably sobbing again, all while feebly petting me. I did not like how she petted me, but I let her pet me regardless.

     Everything got a lot worse after that.

     She took me to her home. I tried to escape her attempts to kidnap me. I wanted to go home--my home. It was my human's night-home, the only place he was safe. I had to be there, even if he wasn't. She didn't appreciate my cries and shiftiness.  She locked me in her house, giving me no access outside. Every time I escape thereafter, she'd howl at me, raging and locking me in a room with little light. 

     I shouldn't try to escape, that's what that all meant. But I needed to be home.

     She pet me wrong. She was too delicate, not like the rough and thorough pets which I adored from my human. The other human in her house was not good at petting either. How did I not notice before? 

     Sometimes, she would cry when she saw me. Sometimes, she would be mad at me because I was supposed to help him. I didn't know that was my job. I thought we were friends, that's what I thought. I thought he helped me live, and I let him pet me.

     I wandered the house frequently, calling to him. I knew he wasn't there, but I wanted to try. I loved him. Now he is gone. Now I was left alone in a house I don't care about, with people I don't like.

     She gave me up to a shelter a year after taking me away. I was too much, too loud, and too much of a reminder. I only ever loved my human. They left me in a cage. They cared for me well. But no one came for me. They just left me there.

     One day, they took me away, to a sterile, all-too-bright room. I clawed at them, I was scared. It reminded me of the vet's, something my human would drag me unwillingly to. Then, there was a silence in the room after the woman solemnly pulled out a kit.

     I felt a pinch. I retaliated immediately. A minute later, I felt too tired to fight the humans anymore. I don't like humans, I decided. They make decisions for themselves that affect everyone. Even the only human I like, my human, did that.

     Why did he go?

     I wish he never died.

     My vision sparkled, and I disappeared.

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1378 Words

edit:Forgot my word count n grammar edits