Kill Me.

Pet Me.

It's dark.

No sight, no sound, just black.

It's so quiet I can hear my blood pumping, my heart thumping, and the blood as it moved, running down my cheeks.

So cold...

Have I died? Is this the afterlife?

I could only wish for such a luxury as death.

Please...

I try and scramble to my feet, careful not to slip on the leaking blood around me.

But I can't.

My body's fastened to the floor.

Every bone, every muscle and every joint in my body screams out in pain, begging for me to move to do anything...

I can't.

I just wait.

Wait till he rips me from the deepest depths of my mind into the equally horrifying reality.

He loves to torture me...

Don't leave...

It hurts. Oh chaos it hurts so bad. Someone pull me from this life and break my neck, anything please! Kill me, kill me please...

Someone?

Is there anyone out there to hear my cries?! Someone please! Oh, I've never begged in my life but chaos I'm going it now! Sonic... Rouge... Omega...

Anyone?

Who am I kidding? They've all forgotten me, anyway. I could be dead, lost, tortured, experimented on, they wouldn't care anway.

Help me.

There's no hope for me anymore. I'm his bitch, and I always will be.

My body quivered, a clear sign he wants me up. I don't know which is worse, bathing in my misery, schizophrenia and pain or having my body sold out to the highest bidder, day after day, night after night, anything from lab experiments to prostitution.

I was dead on the inside, just not on the outside.

My eyes slowly pealed open, looking up into the crystal blue eyes of my master, letting out a small whine escape my throat. Ugh, he smelt of alcohol and drugs...

My body quivered again, locking up as master pulled on my leash. "C'mon you filthy slut." He yelled, yanking on my leash again.

My body whined as it finally unclicked, allowing my joints to move once more. I rolled over onto my hands and knees, trying to get to my feet but my legs collapsed under the weight.

Hmph, what weight?

I was bone thin. Ribs poked out of my skin, my hip bones, my tail bone, my collar... All poking out. My fur was ragged and tattered, bald patches littering my body, my white chest fur not even close to as plush as it used to.

Once upon a time, master actually cared for my health, making sure I didn't look like a feral cat, but presentable. I was only whored out to those who could afford me then.

Then one day a scientist came in, said he'd pay double the amount if he could experiment on me. Master folded like a cheap tent when he stated the price to hold me for a month...

I think I can safely say that's where I developed my Schizophrenia. It was horrible. There were so many deformed people, blood, saws... Everywhere. I could only fear for my life. There...

I feel the bile in my throat rise.

I don't even want to think about it...

But from that day on, as long as they didn't harm me so my performance would be affected, they could do whatever they want with me.

I just came back from a different labratory, they didn't feed me at all there. I'm not sure how I got them, but there's scars and stitches all over me, and they hurt when I move.

My rump hurts like hell. That guy, he didn't hesitate to randomly jump on me. He was about twice my size, he tore my insides apart.

Eventually, Master must've realised the surgeries I had must've hindered my movement and gently picked me up and held me to his chest. I purred, nuzzling up against him, eyes closing contently.

"Stupid fucking bear." Master hissed, sitting down and gently stroking my blunted quills. "I told him to make sure you didn't ache."

I smiled and cuddled up to master, pushing my muzzle against his. I love the way he's so protective over me. Master put me down on the seat. "I'll get you some food. I need to make it compulsory for them to feed you."

I smiled wide and began to paw the couch. Oh, master is so caring!

He soon came back with a bowl of finely chopped meat and vegtables. One of my regulars is a nutritionist he's good friends with Master, and often gives him microwavable dishes since Masters girlfriend left him and no one was left to cook meals. Master doesn't really like them though, so he often gives me them. Boy, does that nutritionist cook me the best meals. Terrible in bed though. But he has me for that.

I chewed the flood happily, purring as they flavours hit my tongue. Once finished, I climbed over the arm of the chair into the couch were master was sitting and curled up onto his lap.

He rolled me over onto my back and assed the stitches. "Ah, that fuck." He gently ran a hand over one of the stitches and I hissed in pain. "This'll put you out for at least a week."

He lifted up my back and put my head on his chest. I cuddled up to him, preparing to fall asleep once again.

-oOo-