I Hate You

-20-

Heather quickly packed her things. She had just gotten a call from her dad that Bruiser was taken to a veterinary hospital because he had passed out. It was six in the morning on a Sunday, so Courtney hadn't been awake yet. That was until Heather dropped her suitcase to the ground with a loud thud.

"Heather," she groaned tiredly. "What gives?"

"I have to go. Bruiser's very sick. I don't know when I'll be back." She took deep breaths, preparing herself for anything that could happen.

"Oh no..." her friend frowned. She knew Heather was super close to her cat. Closer than she was with anyone else, including her. "Heather, I'm sorry. Hopefully, everything goes well."

"I hope so too," she sighed in distress. "I'll update you as much as I can."

"Thank you."

Heather nodded and headed for the door. "Hey," Courtney said softly, holding her arms open. "Hug?"

"Court, I don't-fine..." she walked over to her and hugged her. "Bye. See you later."

"You too."

She quickly left the building and finally got to her car after walking to the parking lot. She cursed every step it took. She sped to the hospital, not caring about anything else now.

Heather found her mom and dad in the lobby. And they were...eating? She angrily marched over to them. "What the hell?! How can you guys eat at a time like this?! Where is he?!"

"Heather feather, calm down, sweetie," her father began. "The doctors are taking care of him."

"He'll be fine. You're being overdramatic, dear," her mom told her.

She scoffed. "No, I'm not! Bruiser is my best friend!"

"What about Courtney? You know, the one human friend you have?"

She gritted her teeth, knowing that was an underhanded comment. "Well, Courtney's not hurt right now, is she?!"

"No, but you need to relax. It's just a cat. You can get a new one."

"You're such a bitch! I can't just replace him with any cat!"

"And this is exactly why I considered not having your father call you. You always must make everything so over the top, Heather! And then you start calling me names!"

"Because you're always a bitch! My cat is literally dying, and you tell me I'm being overdramatic!"

"You're so selfish; you know that? Bruiser isn't just your cat. We bought him for you!"

"But you hate him, don't you? Just like you hate me!"

"You're my daughter. I don't hate you."

Heather laughed sarcastically. "That is such a fucking lie! I know you wanted me gone for a long time!"

"And there you go again, making everything about you. Maybe we'd actually like you if you were nicer!"

She felt sick. Every time her mom jabbed at her like it, it felt like someone was tearing her apart, little by little. She suddenly felt dizzy and nauseous. This is too much. "I-I need to sit down." She got in one of the lobby chairs a few seats down from her parents. She rubbed her stomach.

"God," she heard her mother mutter to her dad. "It's always something with her. She expects everyone to bow down to her. I can't believe she's making her own cat's sickness about herself."

"She's just upset, Martha," he replied. "She will cool down."

"Will she, Tom? Because something else will come up, and she'll get angry at us for it. She always blames us for her problems."