The Life of KitCat

Hospitalized

Still Cat's P.O.V. 

I get bored of just sitting in the food court, so I stand up and start walking toward the doors, about to go sit on the curb and listen to music in peace.  That's before Connor grabs my wrist , catching up with me.

"Where ya goin'?"

"To sit outside."

"By yourself?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Because I got bored of sitting in this area."

"Can I come?"

"If you want." and without another word, he pulls my hand out of my pocket and holds it until we get outside.  I lean against a post and eventually I get bored again.  

"Do you wanna film a video?" I ask.

"How can we film anything here?"

"We walk back to my house."

"That's quite a ways away..." 

"Come on lazy!" and I drag Connor back the way we pulled in.  We get close to a grocery store and I pull Connor in with me, getting things for a video.  We decide to film the what's in my mouth challenge along with a tattoo video where we give each other temporary tattoos.  We get all the materials and carry them back home.  We finally get back to the house and I drop everything in the doorway.  We get lights, camera, and food set up, preparing to do my food video first.  We start talking, I do my intro, and Connor is his pleasent, charming self.  It's almost too much to tolerate.  I love it, but it's so much happiness in just one person.  He dances around and bounces in and out of frame, but occasionally he gets serious, but it isn't real serious.  Would it be weird if I said that I loved him?

I stand up to go get our second can opener when I get this sharp pain in my foot.  When I look down, blood is pooling on the hard wood floor.  I feel pain, and I see the blood, but my brain refuses to make th connection.  Connor sees that I'm just standing there, and he starts to panic.  Then I'm panicking, and he's calling an ambulance, and wrapping my foot in a towel, and I'm barely concious of what he's doing, but I'm grateful.  Then the ambulance is here and they're strapping me down, and Connor's sitting next to me , and I start crying because it really hurts and the pain is the only thing that I have to focus on.  Connor is saying something, and the siren is loud.  Like really  loud.  He takes my hand.  Now I'm concentrating on his hand, which is warm and smooth and bigger than mine.  We go over a bump and my leg bouces and my foot's bleeding heavier, and the pain is only becoming greater, so I squeeze Connor's hand.  I hear him quince, but I can't let go, and I can't loosen my grip.  We go over another bump and the pain is so much that I pass out.