Two Halves Make a Whole (Straight Furry Story)

3.2 - A Stupid Emotional Rollercoaster

[Skye's POV]

I can't believe I'm really doing this now, I thought to myself, having left Jax's side only seconds ago, all the sense of security I had built up vanishing instantaneously. I could only imagine what verbal insult spree my dad was gonna go on this time.

I looked back and noticed he was still waiting there, giving me a thumbs up and blowing me a kiss. I blew a kiss back, worried about what was to come. As soon as the shrubbery on the side of my house blocked his face, panic took on my body.

I was scared of what was gonna happen, to say the least. The ten seconds I took to walk to the front door may have been some of the most terrifying. I mean my dad hates wolves—like he completely despises them to the point where they may as well not even be living creatures. Where did this hatred start, I didn't know, but something tells me that I didn't want to.

I was standing in front of the cracked open door, recollecting my thoughts and catching my increasingly fast breaths when Sam swung it open, her blue fur wrapped up in a towel as well as her black hair.

"I told Daddy about how much of a slut you are. He's not happy and neither should you be, what with your nasty canine  fetish."

And with that, she slammed the door in my face making me stumble backward slightly. I don't know if my sisters actually hate me or are just told to hate me by our dad, but it could very easily be either.

I reached for the doorknob, still contemplating whether or not I should actually go through with this. On one hand, I could be yelled at by my dad for my canine fetish, or I could peacefully leave with Jax and wait until he sobers up and forgets what Sam told him. I'm sixteen and I can stand up for myself, I thought. I can't keep running away from my problems.

Running away may have been the wise choice, now that I think about it.

As soon as I opened the door a quarter of the way, enough for only my leg to slip through, I heard a way too familiar screech of drunkenness and anger. "SKYE, GETCH'ER ASS OVER 'ERE RIGHT NOW!!!"

Damn.

"Coming, dad," I say, exhaling all the hope I once had. The drunken blue tiger was on the living room couch watching reruns of basketball games from the ones he missed while he was drunk last night.

"Ya care to explain what Sam's talkin' about?" he said, stuttering and slurring his words, unsuccessfully trying to furrow his eyebrows in a scolding manner.

"It depends. What did  Sam say?" I responded, folding my arms.

"Well she told me that y'all were grindin' up n' against some canine ass'le. That bettah not be true..."

"...and what if it isn't entirely false...?" I cautiously spoke, no way of choosing wise words as virtually whatever I said next would pick me up and empty me into a pit of landmines.

Yeah.

"So you're sayin' you were fuckin' a dog?" he questioned frighteningly, attempting to find a cigarette from his empty lack from the floor.

"No! There wasn't any sex or anything. It's just, I, hmph, may possibly, be dating a wolf."

I glanced at him at picking my head up, only to be met with the most buzzed death stare I've ever seen. "Why would I care if he's not a tiger?! I didn't raise such a slut and a dumbass!"

"Maybe if you'd pull your head out of your ass for once and set down that beer bottle, you'd realize HOW LITTLE YOU ACTUALLY MATTER TO ME!" I screamed, forgetting all rumor of manners and politeness.