Destined Fur More

Donuts Are Meant for Eating, Teague

TEAGUE

I sat in the booth of a random diner, holding what had been a relatively edible doughnut twenty minutes ago, but was currently being used as a stressball. I could feel eyes on me, but I didn't care enough to look up. I knew my clothes were two sizes too big and looked like they were stolen right out of some, cheap lumberjack horror movie. And considering they'd once been Graham's, that probably wasn't far off-base.

I dug my fingernails deeper into the doughnut.

Okay, so I'd ditched Fisher. It's not like she would die. Well, okay, she might be forced to have children, but that was considerably better than being eaten by a whale, or some other omnivorous sea creature. Were whales even omnivorous? What do they eat? Kelp? What's kelp? Is that, like, fish or some ocean scum that resembled fish?

Oh, shut the fuck up, Teague! Fisher's voice rang in my head. Lately, I'd found she was the conscience I'd never wanted. Just sitting there. In wait. Of me to internally fuck up. Which, in her imaginary opinion, was virtually everything I did.

Thanks for ditching me too, asshole. I appreciated all the help and that nice, gaping wound you left my arm with while I tried to escape the Mythical Mafia who are hell bent on having Fisher clones run around this place. Spawning from ME, in case that wasn't clear. No, seriously, I'm sure I didn't trip, hit my head, and fall to some quickly-flowing river, waiting unconsciously for rescue when nobody would come because I have nobody. What better use am I, other than fish food? Ironic, right? FISH food. Because I'm FISHER and FISH are usually MY food. Not like I'll be missed. The only person who even seemed relatively concerned was Graham, and he's—

"Shut the hell up, Fisher!" I screamed, crushing the doughnut completely. "You don't think I feel bad enough?" The diner had gone silent. I looked up and saw all the stares of random Alaskan patrons. Even the waitresses were giving me a few dull looks.

I cleared my throat. "Uh… sorry," I muttered, quickly shoving the doughnut in my mouth and slipping down until I was eye-level with the table. Conversation resumed.

No, Teague, Fisher said softly to me. I don't do think you do.

Then she left.

Wait, could she leave? Wasn't she, like, you know, in my head? I didn't think there were many doors up there. Maybe she's just not going to commentate anymore—

"Hello," a soft voice said, snapping my attention away from my thoughts. I was still sitting—well, no, I wasn't sitting. My back was on the seat cushion of the booth, while my head rested uncomfortably on the back. I wished I could just melt into the nasty, STD infected vinyl.

"Hi," I muttered in a monotone voice to the girl, who might've actually been pretty cute, had I not been crushed by fourteen elephants of guilt.

Clearly not catching my drift, the girl slid into the booth with me. Her hazel eyes looked directly at me, making me feel more scrutinized than I was prepared for. I gave her a funny look.

"Can I… help you?" I asked with a little more malice than necessary. "Or do you just want this booth? Because I'm kind of using it."

A small smirk played on her lips, but it didn't last long. "You're asking the wrong person."

My eyebrows knit together before I realized I didn't care. "I don't feel like talking."

"Your friend," she said, ignoring me and not breaking eye contact. "You abandoned her when she needed you second most."

I shot up to a sitting position, eyes huge. "What the hell are you talking—"

She waved me off and rolled her eyes. "Don't even play dumb with me," she growled, tapping her nails on the plastic table. "She needed you. You told her to go fuck herself."