The Moorland Cat

The Moorland Cat

A Story by Julian_Reaper_Hayes
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Need to make this story better, one bit at a time

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Vincent P.O.V

I should never have come out here.

I take another step through the snow, farther and farther from the warm corners of the place I call home, my boots crunching across the snow underneath. I press on, determined to follow the tracks before the new snowfall covers them, plowing over any chance to find Slate.

The clearing is hardly ten feet, yet I can hardly see one. The snow falls heavily, rapidly lining the ground, several feet deep.

“Vincent!” I hear someone shout over the brisk wind.

I turn, staring as Julian strides up.

“I’m coming with you.” He announces, his blood red hair crowded with snowflakes, sticking to it like fingerprints.

“Fine.”

I turning back to the crisp trail of cat prints.

“I won’t leave her out here.” Carefully wiping the fingerprints from my black hair. “What if she has her kittens? She’d lose them all.”

I take another determined step forward, desperate to reach the black she-cat. We get to the tree line, the oak tree’s giving the appearance of a border, a gate.

“Slate, little she-devil.”

---------------

I close my ears, taking in the warmth of the fire, burning away in the grate. I look around this house

They had called for a blizzard and a blizzard we were given.

I close my eyes, wishing for nothing more than to have Slate in my lap. We looked for an hour before we turned back.

I lift my head to look out the window, the snow has died down a bit, but it’s still snowing hard.

I feel Julian take a seat next to me, watching me, yet I keep my eyes on the window.

“Vincent if Slate can manage to get pregnant by some random cat, then she can find her way in a snowstorm. She’s not a dog and she’s not stupid.”

I tear my eyes from the window and look at the boy.

He’s been my friend since we were ten. But I can’t lose Slate.

I turn my eyes to the floor, blinking fast.

Julian rises from his seat and leaves me alone in the living room. I shift my gaze to the empty walls. Not physically, picture frames hang on the walls, empty of any meaning. A picture of a snowy meadow, one of a dog running through a field.

Not a single family picture. The only picture with a meaning hangs above the fire. A single picture of my Father. The man I hate the most.

“You’re a f*****g b*****d you know,” I scream at the picture. “When Mom died you should have been there for me. I needed you. Instead, you just turned away.”

I force my sleeve up, revealing the red lines that race across my wrist. I ran a finger across the newest of them. The brutal angry cuts litter my wrists and crisscross my stomach.

“Look what you did. If you had just stayed with me. But you left me.”

Minutes later Julian walks back in, taking a seat next to me, leaning back against the black material of the couch.

“I wish you would stop.”

I give him a confused look, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. I know Julian is worried, and I wish I could stop. For him.

But I can’t. I’m addicted. Seven times. Seven times I’ve cut too deep and had to go to the hospital. I’ve spent almost six months in a rehab center.

“I know you do.”

Out of the corner of my eye I see him flinch at the hostility I pushed into those words. I turn towards the boy and catch his eyes. I’ve always loved his eyes, one a pale light green, the other a dark brown.

“Vincent,” He whines. “Please?”

I rip my eyes off him and back to the window, yanking my sleeve back down.

“You don’t get it.”

“I wish I could.”

I sigh, keeping my eyes on the floor.

“Damn it, Vincent! Look at me.” Julian screams. “I can’t lose you.”

I look up at him and meet his eyes again. Minutes pass, yet neither of us says a thing.

Damn it Julian. Why do you gotta be so cute? Do something. I could stare at you all day.

“Vince I need you. You can’t keep doing this.” I feel him grab my hand, blush slightly covering his face.

“What are you doing?” I ask him, sounding too harsh. I notice him wince, pulling back. I catch his eyes, for a moment, I see both a sadness and an anger. He rises from the couch and escapes the room. I rush up and follow him, debating what to say.

It can’t be past four o’clock, yet the room feels so dark.

I walk into the kitchen as Julian shuts the fridge. I stride over and wrap an arm around his waist in a hug. He struggles, pushing away. I release him and he spins around to face me, nothing more but a few inches between us.

“You can’t walk off like that. I didn’t mean for it to sound mean.”

He reaches a hand up and moves a few strands of his hair off to the side. I can see a light blush in his cheeks as he takes my hand.

I lean forward and kiss him, a momentary kiss that lasts only a few seconds. Before anyone could say a word, he kisses me again.

----------------------

“If she’s not back tomorrow after school I’m going to go out and find her.” I mutter to the empty room. I let out a sigh and pull myself off the bed. I cross the room to the looking-glass hanging on the wall.

My black hair is hanging in my face, the white color of my bangs starting to fade. I close my eyes and picture the reflection I saw seven years ago when I was still nine, when my mother was still alive.

I was so small for my age. Well, I still am. I was so alive, filled with energy, my eyes were a vivid green. Now all I see in my dull green eyes is exhaustion, no drive, no motivation.

Now all I see is cuts and scars, insults and mockery.

“Something’s wrong with you. You’re just the only one that doesn’t see it. You are such a waste of space. What would ever make you think they want you here?”

I remove my leather jacket, placing it on its hook by the mirror. My Father won’t be home till seven seeing as it’s Tuesday. I hate snow days, they seem so pointless.

My mind continues racing, I can’t focus on anything but Slate’s well-being. I should be stressing over kissing Julian. I should be doing my homework. Or studying. I’ve tried but…

Slate is somewhere out in the snow, in the storm.

Maybe someone let her inside. Maybe she’s no longer out in the snow.

Slate just means so much to me.

I turn back to my bed and bury my face in the pillow. This day has just been stressful.

And tomorrow I have to go back to school.

© 2016 Julian_Reaper_Hayes


Author's Note

Julian_Reaper_Hayes
please give me any ideas of how to add detail and overall make it better

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Featured Review

This is really sad :c
But to help you with your writing. To add a bit of extra detail i'd say add a description on the weather, like how heavy is it, where are they and what does there current area look like. i do this a lot, and its my own writing style, but this is just me. Another would be to instead of making the character give up so quickly try to extant it over time, like he's slowly losing hope and is starting to get disheartened, but again just a suggestion :) But i really like the way you've written this, its your own style and its really good

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

This is really sad :c
But to help you with your writing. To add a bit of extra detail i'd say add a description on the weather, like how heavy is it, where are they and what does there current area look like. i do this a lot, and its my own writing style, but this is just me. Another would be to instead of making the character give up so quickly try to extant it over time, like he's slowly losing hope and is starting to get disheartened, but again just a suggestion :) But i really like the way you've written this, its your own style and its really good

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on March 15, 2016
Last Updated on March 16, 2016
Tags: gay, mature, self harm, Abuse, Bullying

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Julian_Reaper_Hayes
Julian_Reaper_Hayes

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My name is Julian Reaper Hayes and i'm 15. I mainly write novels but i can help with anything. more..