And Then The Murders Began

Chapter Eleven: Some Very Shocking Developments

The next morning, I wake up bright-eyed, but definitely not bushy-tailed. My fur looks like a rat's nest, although at this point in my life, that's the least of my concerns. At least I don't have to worry about being late- I'm up at quarter of six even though my normal circadian rhythm has me up at half past six. Oh, well, I suppose, at least the rest of my half night's worth of rest.

Fifteen minutes may not be much, really, but when I've felt like crap for so long and when quite literally every second of good rest counts, every single freaking second, well then it's gonna mean trouble... and then when you tack on the little bit of lost sleep, yeah, that's gonna bite me in the ass later...

Eh, I have plenty of scars at this point, what's the point of trying to avoid adding more in the end? Why the hell not?

But anyways, if I'm completely out of it today, well then I'm gonna know exactly why. Am I going to hate myself for letting myself do it, well then I don't know...

What I do know is that it's gonna be a long day at this rate.... And I'm heading back to dear ol' Fundy High today, and I would have liked to have been able to get enough sleep, but I sure as hell didn't and so here we are!

Oh, well, I suppose. Better that I'm up and neat and tidy on my first day back to school in an ungodly long stretch of time. I yank the covers off and pull myself out of bed, paw instinctively slapping over my mouth as it opens in a yawn. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I snag my glasses off of the top of my dresser and slip them on, feeling grateful to whoever discovered how to grind glass into lenses that the world comes into sharper focus.

It feels weird being the kind of person I am, the kind of mammal, and yet ending up wearing glasses, wow you must be a horrible predator if you can't see...

Okay, there's a bit to unpack there, a, this is the twenty-first century, we don't eat each other, two, I'm letting it all get to me when it's my own freaking mind, how messed up do I have to be for that to happen?

Apparently very, but like usual, I'm getting off track.

After that, I get up and try to make myself look as presentable as I need to be, shivering as a sudden cold gust comes in through the open door. Ah, well, as Mom always used to tell me, whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and I sure don't think in the slightest that a cold breeze is going to do me in... at least I hope it won't, but just to err on the side of caution, I root through my dresser until I find the combination of top and pants that fit my mood I'd love to slip some shorts on, but come on, it's not even really spring here yet in Lepreau, they can wait. I may still have my winter coat of fur, but yeah, not gonna risk it. Slipping those on, I head downstairs towards the kitchen, my growling stomach leading me to gravitate towards the smell of bacon and eggs wafting through the house from the kitchen.

Mom hears me coming and calls out for me- "Morning, Electra. Did you manage to get back to sleep after what happened last night?"

"I did, actually," I say, my lips parting in the barest hint of a smile. "Thanks for asking. What about you?"

"I did alright, I guess. I tossed and turned for a little bit, but I managed." She holds out a frying pan towards me. "You hungry? I was just cooking up something for breakfast."

"Yeah, I am, actually," I say, and my stomach decides to add a loud growl to back me up. "Huh, like I was saying..." At that, a thought pops into my head; I can't remember how much I ate yesterday, or even if I really ate anything.... Maybe that's why I've felt so much like crap the last few days- and even if that's not everything, it's surely not helping.