One-Shots [Boboiboy]

Nine Lives

I am a black cat. My fur is as black as night, and my eyes are red as blood. Because of this, humans despise me. Black cats are depicted to be the bringer of destruction, the bearer of bad luck.

I've coped with the abuse ever since I was born. My mother was a domesticated cat. She grew up in a decent household that was very pious; the humans were devoted to perform heavy rituals at the cost of their own health. I don't know what religion they were into, and I don't remember much of it either.

When I first opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was my mother, and my two siblings. We all had the tiniest patch of fur, and all of us were snuggling against our mother's body. It was normal, because we were young and the outside world was very, very scary.

Eventually I learned to walk on my own and explore our house. I was the first among my siblings to be able to be physically capable, so they watched me with awe as I hopped from furniture to furniture, whereas they could barely run. My mother would always hiss at me for going too high and too fast, but I never listened.

Few weeks later, our fur was fully grown. Our young owner was still small, also barely able to walk on her own. She laughed and clapped her chubby hands as she watched me pounce around, trying to escape her meaty grabs.

I don't like humans' touch much, but she never gets the message. I screeched and wailed whenever she caught me, but she would never let go and basically forced me to endure what the humans call "tea parties".

Her mother and father were never home, so all I saw was her babysitter and her. I don't know any of their names, but I was sure they weren't nice.

One day, she was sitting in the living room, playing with my siblings on the couch. I sat by the door, staring at them in relief that I wasn't a part of their activities. My mother was curled on the carpet, sleeping constantly due to her old age.

Then the door opened, and it was the kid's parents. I felt a sharp pain coming from my tail, and my instinct was to shriek and scratch the closest being to me. My claws were fresh and uncut, and they slashed across a human woman's exposed ankle. Her black heels had stepped on my sensitive tail.

After that, whatever happened was a blur. I remember a man's screaming, a woman shrieking and water being sprayed all over. My mother woke and shrieked for her children, and my siblings went to her.

Unfortunately, I was the sole one out. I was picked up by metal tweezers, and they threw me out the balcony, straight from the thirtieth floor.

I didn't know who came up with the concept that cats have nine lives, but all I remembered back then was that it hurt a lot. I landed in a tree at the park below, and the next thing I knew, another kid picked me up.

When I woke up, I woke up in a cardboard box. There were bandages and crutches all over my body. There was a bowl in front of me with milk, still cold.

The top was exposed, so I tried to look up. My hind paws were broken; I knew that much. I mewled in pain, and I could barely move, but I didn't have to. A shadow was cast over me, and it was a teenage boy.

He has stunning blue eyes, I can remember. As blue as the ocean, but brighter than diamonds.

Are you alright? He asked me. I could not speak human, so I remained silent. Sorry, he continued. I've never learned how to bandage a cat. Hope you'll be okay soon. My name's Cyclone.

I mewled sadly as a response, and I turned away from him. I thought about my mother, my siblings of bright brown and grey fur. They were okay, but I was not. What did I do to deserve this fate? I had done nothing wrong.

For the weeks that followed, he was always by my side. In the mornings, he strapped on his blue helmet and kicked up his skateboard and left. But in the evenings, he always returned and tended by my side. He brought me to his mother one day, and they took me to the vet.

The vet was also scary, but I saw so much more. I saw dogs, birds, even a crocodile; but all of them were loved and cared by their owners. Is this my new human? My new owner? I don't know. They cared for me, but I doubt that they would like my fur color. Maybe they just pitied me.

Months later, I recovered silently. They brought me a black bed that matched my fur and set it by the boy's bed. Though at nights he slept messily, his blanket falling onto me by surprise. At first, I screeched in shock. But then when I peeked out and saw the boy shivering without his covers, I sighed. With my mouth, I hauled the blanket onto him, and curled up by his side instead.

Eventually, he also brought me a red collar. There was a nameplate attached, though I couldn't read. He tried to make me wear it, but I resisted. He forced it on me, and I always managed to get it off my neck. After a week, he gave up. He laid on his bed and dotted my nose with his fingers, telling me my name. Your name is Thunderstorm, okay? Your eyes tell me that you're a fighter. Are you a fighter? A stubborn one, but yes. You are a fighter, Thunderstorm.

Thunderstorm. That was now my name. I suppose that he is my human now. It's been three years, and he grew up well. He left for college, and he took him with me. I remember him arguing with the landlord regarding the policy of pets, and he somehow won the argument because two other humans brought their pets with them. Funnily enough, they were also fellow cats.

Now I sit in Cyclone's room every day, waiting for him to come back. He would do his assignments, and I would sit on his desk, staring at him until he finished. He would bring me out for walks, bring me to meet his friends, and try to bathe me. Keyword: tried.

If cats really had nine lives, then I hope that I would be by his side every life I had.