Young Writers Society

By the time I'd come back to my empty home, it was thundering. 

My dark hair was soaking wet, and it was tough to tell that I had been crying. The curtains that hang over the windows in the main room were faded, and tattered from the cats I shared a home with. 

I was only a teenager, at that point in time. My only family was made up of cats, but not even they seemed to like me.

The old picture frames, containing fragments of my broken past, were cracked, old pictures burned at the corners. 

That was normal, in my house. The cats always knocked things over. They came and went as they pleased. I was often dubbed the 'Crazy Cat girl' by others, because no matter where I went, at least one cat would follow. 

The smell of blood was still present, even years after that dreadful day.

My dad was probably laying passed out on a park bench, somewhere, empty beer bottle in hand, smelling of vomit. He never did seem to really care about my mom and I. 

As far as I'm concerned, I have no father. He was never there for me, or for my mother, so why should I care?

I was just a mistake, on his part. 

Good riddance, I suppose. He's gone through his ultimate fate already. It's not like it will matter, to him. 

I flinched, as thunder clapped awfully close to my house, its sister, lightening following close behind. I quickly and quietly scurried to my old, small room, closed the door, turned off the light, and crawled under my blanket, curling in a ball. Times like this made me wish that I wasn't so alone. That I had someone to hold me. But at the same time, I pushed people away, because to trust, is almost like taking a bullet. You either live or die. I trusted my mother, when she told me everything would be okay, and guess what happened?

Nothing was okay. 

She was all I had. She was the only one who'd ever spoke the words, "I love you," to me. Though it wasn't often that she spoke those words, she gave them meaning. 

I used to dream of one day getting married, and having kids, and seeing her at my wedding. That was back when I did not see the world as I did, now. Now, I am very aware of loss, and grief.

Of course, I could never trust someone if they uttered those hated words, the words I never want to hear again. 

The only cat who seemed to truly like me was a small, white kitten. He meowed, crawling under my blanket with me. He curled up against my slightly chubby stomach, resting a tiny paw, the same color as snow, on my side. 

I pet him softly, closing my golden eyes. I kissed his head, holding her close. He was the only one I wanted around. I loved him, as if he were my child. He was the only one who missed me when I left the house.

But he had no name. 

He was my nameless son; so young, and innocent, but without an identity. 

I must've left my door open, because next thing I knew, hands were touching me, shaking me, "Krista, please don't ignore me! Why were you crying?" 

I swatted those hands away, holding my nameless son tighter. 

"Leave me alone, Amelia." 

"Krista," a gentler, softer voice met my ears. "Please talk to us,"

I sat up, still holding my son to my chest, "No. Sofia, Amelia, I'm fine. I need you both to leave," the little one in my arms had fallen asleep. 

Amelia sat on my bed, her dark skin contrasting with the pure white, sheetless, mattress. "Oh, come on, Kris-"

"Stop it." I glared at the both of them. "I don't want to speak to you. Not about what happened," 

Sofia's tan hand touched my shoulder, "Krista, if this is about something that's happened to you in the past-"

"Stop. Now." I pushed her hands off, "You may be my friends, but there's no way in hell I could ever trust either of you with what happened," 

I turned to face them, cheeks slightly pink, since my room had been especially cold. 

Amelia frowned at my response, "Stop being so sensitive," Sofia nudged her, signalling that what she responded with may not have been the best thing to say. Amelia immediately corrected herself, "I mean...we're just worried about you. We want to know what's wrong,"

I forced a small smile, though I didn't want anything to do with anyone but my nameless son, at the moment. 

"Thank you, for worrying about me,"

Stop lying. I told myself, You're pathetic enough, as it is.

"But I'm fine," 

Sofia looked unconvinced, but Amelia sighed softly, resting a hand on my pale arm, "Okay...but talk to us, if you need someone,"

I don't need anyone. 

I nodded, though I wanted to cry, still. 

What a worthless piece of shit you are, Krista. 

When they were gone, I gently put my son down, and went into my kitchen to look for my blades.