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My cheek stung as I slowly stumbled down to my room, trying to hide the tears that so desperately tried to break through the surface. Yet again, he had come home drunk, and yet again, my mother passed all blame of everything onto me. He had stormed down to my room and dragged me out, leading me up to the kitchen to scream profanities at me and then eventually beat my body down, demanding I get back up so he could punch my face again.

I made it through four rounds this time before his fist landed squarely with my jaw and I collapsed on the floor, my head reeling, maw throbbing too hard to even produce a sound. Surely, I had lost teeth this time, but my focus quickly turned to instinctual self-defense after his foot hit my ribs with a hard kick. Gasping as sharp pain lanced through me like a shockwave, my flexible body curled up protectively, but that only spurred him forward as his feet kicked me relentlessly, shot after shot to my now exposed spine. I barked and squealed until I had been hit so many times that I couldn't make a sound anymore.

Mercifully, I felt his foot simply press against my back, but it was short lived. With yet another spit laced insult, he shoved me with his leg and I found myself tumbling down the stairs to the floor below. As I laid there, too physically damaged to move, I heard my father stroll back to the fridge, knowing he was grabbing the bottle of whiskey to pour himself some more. Clawing at the floor, I did all I could to hide myself, hoping that if I disappeared from sight, he'd at least forget about me for the rest of the night.

Blood dripped from my nose and I found myself nearly choking on the same liquid in my mouth, managing to swallow the copper flavored juice before gasping in as full of a breath as I could. Finding the strength to crawl, I made it to the door, lifting myself up to my feet before gingerly limping the rest of the way. Sleep came quickly, the only solace in this world of pain. I had neither the strength nor any energy left to care about my unfinished homework, even though that would surely be the reason for the inevitable beating tomorrow. However, for now, any escape was beautiful.

Normally, I was able to hide the pain while I was at school, putting on the persona of the cool kid who didn't care about his education. I was the ferret who sat in the back of class and either slept or just did his own thing. My grades were terrible and though I had the intellect to achieve far better than just D's, survival was my priority, not school. Being a junior in high school, I had already worn thin on all my teachers and no one seemed to really give a damn about me or about anything I did.

"Sable Thomas, are you even listening to me?" My ears flicked a little bit as I wearily stared up at the ignorant substitute teacher. I could hear the sounds of muffled laughter as my classmates waited in baited humor to hear what I would say. Considering I had stopped giving a damn about this place years ago, my response was both immediate and automatic. With a humorless chuckle of my own, I replied.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Several other furs couldn't hold it back any longer and their laughing only seemed to infuriate the raccoon and as the seconds of wordless noise continued on, I knew where I'd be sent. A few ticks on the clock later and I was grabbing my unopened textbook and leaving the class, allegedly on my way to the principal's office. I had no plans on actually going there though, as I made a detour to the bathroom to release the pent up frustration that built up like a volcano.

While some guys jerked it off and blew white spurts into the toilet, I found that to be far too unsatisfying, not to mention undeserved. My release was far sharper, far less pleasurable, but with what I did, I had complete control of when I felt and how long I felt it. Rolling up a sleeve on my left arm, I saw the lines on my arm, the ladder that stretched from my wrist to just below the elbow, a timeline of recent history as I moved up so the previous wound could heal back up. Pulling out the small pocket knife I kept constantly hidden in my cargo pants, I locked the door to a stall behind me.

As a ferret, one would normally think that I would be energetic or outgoing, clever or witty, but I only thought of myself as a failure. My father always liked to use more decorative words, but it all boiled down to the fact that I couldn't measure up to his standards. The anger I felt towards him didn't compare to the hate I directed at myself. This was the only way I could release enough pain on my own body to keep me from killing myself to just put an end to it.

Taking a deep breath, I brought the blade to my wrist, feeling the sharp edge bite into the skin hiding underneath my ugly fur. It took little effort for the knife to break through as I slid it heavily over the reopened cut, hissing as pain rushed through my arm, holding my arm over the open toilet as blood instantly began streaming down my paw. Both emotional and physical pain coursed through me as the tears I held back all the time at school and in front of my father streamed down my face. I hated myself, detested my very existence, wished for death, but it never came to me.

I kept flexing my paw, increasing the rate of the bleeding, biting my lip as I shuddered. Tears felt like they were streaming down my face as fast as the blood did with my paw. What was it that I was doing so wrong? Why did my parents hate me, why did my dad beat me? The same questions haunted me, but as usual, there were no answers for it and so I just stood there, letting the blood flow, feeling the small rush of adrenaline start to pump through me as my body reacted to the loss of blood.

Normally, after a few minutes, I would start to put pressure on the cut to help it finally clot, but yesterday's beating had been severe, and so consequently, there was more to release. I had easily streamed out a half pint of blood by the time I began to feel lightheaded, lowering myself to my knees to keep from falling. I barely heard the bell ring, signaling the short break between classes, but I didn't care. I was unlike any stereotypical ferret; I wasn't mischievous and my humor was only fueled by a mutual relationship of disgust between the world and myself. Again, the teacher would only glare at me as I walked in, ignoring the sullen attitude, writing me off as just a future failure, a mustelid that would simply live off welfare for the rest of his life.

Other furs walked into the bathroom, taking the time to relieve themselves before the next class break, but as the noises settled back down, I heard the unsettling noise of someone being pushed around, the clear voice of Tracy, followed by the incoherent agreements from his followers as they shoved some unfortunate fur against...my stall door. I flinched as I heard the door shudder, scooting myself back against the toilet in order to try and keep myself hidden. Morbid curiosity caused me to look at the bottom flap of the doorframe, the small opening where a bushy white tail flicked about nervously, the short silence before the real storm.

"So," Tracy began it all, the goat speaking aloud, "my friends here tell me that you looked at one of them funny." Tracy's evil laugh echoed quietly in the restroom. The barnyard ungulate's father was a big school donor, and a very irresponsible parent, using his power in the school to keep the administrators from doing anything to his son. This gave him free rule throughout the building and he knew it and abused it.

"I...I don't know what you're talking about." The mysterious character's meek voice stuttered out in fear, but I knew that it would get him nowhere. My ermine body hadn't only been beaten by my dad; I knew Tracy in a rather physical way, having crossed his path more often than I would have liked. It wouldn't take more than one guess to figure out what Tracy had in store for the unlucky victim and I could feel a chilling shudder run over my spine as the vision of what would come next ran through my mind.

"Sure you don't, but don't worry. I'll help remind you. Hold him still boys."

"No..." That was all the poor guy got out before several other furs grabbed hold of him and worked to pin him against my stall. He twisted around as much as he could, but it was minimal and there was no stopping Tracy's fist when it slammed into his stomach. He doubled over, but his friends soon forced him up again, only for the goat to drill him in his gut again. This continued for several rounds until the victim, who I had figured out was a fox, heaved and threw up on the floor.

"Stupid dog. Get him in that stall so he can throw up in there. I just bought these shoes yesterday."

I froze in fear as I heard that line, knowing that in seconds, they'd find out it was locked. It was then that I realized I had forgotten about my hand, the clean cut still bleeding as heavily as before. My eyes locked on to the large streams flowing down the side of the toilet and I went blank, my mind going too faint from the loss of blood.

"Yo, Trace, the door's locked man. Think someone's in there."

"Oh really. Lucky us, we have an audience. Don't worry about the door, I got this."

A small metal hook, one that had been made from a paper clip, snuck in the little gap between the door and side partition, twisting around to slip over the lock handle. With a simple flick of his wrist, the lock dislodged and the door opened a second later. A collective gasp rushed through a few of them as they saw me, the blood now streaming over my arm, unabated, the knife still gripped in my other paw. I stared at the goat and he stared right back at me, Tracy measuring me up and down, deciding in his mind if it was worth attacking a clearly unstable fur with a knife.

"Well, if it isn't the biggest failure in this school's history. Let's say we drop this fox for now and take care of the ferret."

"I don't know man. We'd have to get past his knife first, because I'm not getting stabbed."

"Use the fox. If he stabs him, it won't be on me or us, it'll be on this loser."

Seconds later, one of Tracy's cohorts came walking in, hidden directly behind the now panicking canine, his eyes locked on mine in terror. I stared at him in slight confusion before I suddenly felt my paw yanked to the side as someone else grabbed the knife from my fingers before slamming my wrist into the floor with his fist. I yelped, but found myself stuck in the back, with no room to move away. The fox was shoved forward before being viciously punched again in the chest, spewing more vomit into the toilet he was forcibly pointed at.

Not all of it landed in the toilet, a little bit splattering onto my face and chest, causing me to flinch and try to pull away, but I couldn't go anywhere. The white dog threw up multiple times, with the lizard behind him encouraging him to continue with his fists. When all he could do was heave, the reptile simply lifted his head up and turned towards Tracy.

"Take whoever you want, Mike."

Mike's eyes turned back to the stall and locked with mine and I whimpered out a weak chirp as fear mixed with the continuous loss of blood overwhelmed me.

"You can have the dog then. The damned ferret is mine."

With a shove, the fox was thrown out of the stall, collapsing on the ground in tears, but I quickly lost focus on him as I felt the lizard's hand gripped my throat, lifting me up as I squirmed lamely. I grabbed at his hand, unable to see or prepare for when his knee smashed into my gut. A scream of agony would have ripped through my maw as I felt a rib crack, but his grip around my throat kept me near completely silent.

I felt myself turned around and had little time to even think before my face plunged into the vomit filled toilet, my forepaws splayed out behind me, and then taken hold of and locked at the wrist behind my back by one of his hands. I thrashed as best I could with my pained chest, but couldn't get away. My lungs burned and soon I couldn't stop my instinctual gasp, sucking in a mouthful of puke just as Mike lifted me from the pool.

Choking and coughing, gagging on the puke, the toxic smell of it overwhelmed me and I retched myself, pouring my own acidic fluids into the toilet while I heard the lizard laugh behind me. As soon as I finally stopped, I felt myself slowly lowered back into the slime, my maw and face slipping back into the murky, stinging bile. Without any ability to control the situation, I went limp, just letting the half-digested food disgustingly caress my face. It wasn't until I felt a scaled hand start fingering the button clasp to my shorts that I returned to reality, beginning to shake around again as the denim quickly was forced down to my ankles, exposing my boxers and then, my bare ass and package to the air and eyes.

I would have yelled out in rage had I the air to do it with, but for now, all I could do was die inside as my brain registered his touch on my ferret sheath, a gentle squeeze that could have been mistaken for affectionate if the circumstances had been different, but for now, they only served to increase my humiliation. Mike was going to rape me, with my face submerged in puke, and he was going to make it even worse by forcing me to physically react to it.

"Stay silent bitch, or else you aren't going to get another lungful of air for a long time."

Only a second or two of free air followed before I was underneath the pool of puke again. It took nearly half a minute of his teasing, but soon, my ferrethood was out and rigid, pulsing in his grasp, reacting strongly as it had been weeks since I had paid it any attention. I knew my pleasure wasn't his ultimate focus and so it didn't surprise me when I felt a warm rod press in against my rump, digging its way straight to my tailhole. A few dribbles of precum were all I was given as lubrication before Mike plunged into my formerly virgin ass.

Everything turned into a blur after that. I only remembered a few select moments: my climax, a teacher's scream when she found me, and then a few blurred seconds of awareness on a stretcher. Consciousness spun and zoned in and out of nightmares of beatings and then complete silence; finally, I came back to the world, gasping as if I was still in the toilet and hadn't breathed for hours. I looked around, finding myself on a bed, with monitors beeping and two strange furs in chairs nearby, while one other lady cat busied herself taking notes of what the monitors said.

"Sable, are you there. Are you okay?"

I saw the raccoon's mouth move and heard words come out of it, but suddenly I turned inside myself as my eyes locked on the sight of Tracy at the doorway, Mike right next to him.

"Did you enjoy yourself yesterday, ferret? There's more where that came from."

Pure, unabated terror swept through me and I screamed, thrashing around on the bed as I desperately tried to get away from them as they walked closer. Sweeping my eyes around what used to be a room, I now saw nothing more than my body strapped down over a table, naked as Mike pulled his pants down and approached me. I wasn't going to let this happen again. NO, NOT AGAIN! Suddenly I felt a surge of calmness run through my body, my struggles ceasing, the nurse's sedatives rushing through me, though it did nothing to stop the horror show playing in my mind as the lizard grabbed my waist and impaled me once more.

I woke up yet again, even more exhausted than before, to the sensation of being stroked. I felt a soft paw run over my tired arm and heard small sobs coming from my side. Turning my head, I saw the raccoon from before and instinctively I recoiled back, snarling at her as rage boiled inside me so fast I couldn't even target where it was coming from. She was quick to pull back, giving herself enough distance to avoid any injury, but she didn't break the soft smile on her face, though her eyes told of hours' worth of tears.

"Sable, it's going to be okay. We're he-"

I hissed as soon as I heard the masculine voice, the only image coming to my mind was that of my father and as soon as I saw the male's arm was within my reach, I lunged forward and snapped my jaws shut around his arm. At least I would have if I had been able to move my head far enough, but I felt myself restrained from doing so. Looking down, I noticed in horror at the sight of leather cuffs around my ankles and wrists and even then felt the soft bite of a firm leather collar around me. I then also noticed that the room looked different from the one I had been in earlier. This one had padded walls and dizzying images that threatened to drive me insane if I looked at them for too long.

"Who the fuck are you and where am I?!"

It felt good to yell, so good to see the look of pain come over his face and I grinned in satisfaction at the response, even if it was only a second-long victory.

"He's the man currently filing papers for guardianship of you, but until we see that you're mentally fit to be released, no such work can continue. As for where you are, you're at the Rochester Mental Institute. We moved you here after your first outbreak and you've been in and out for the last few days. This is the first time you've actually been coherent in nearly a week."

"I've been out for a week."

Even the shock of that knowledge was enough to change my focus for a bit. Though, as I ran through the information, I also heard the next line.

"I've tried to contact your parents, but so far, they haven't picked up the phone. Do you happen to know of any reason why they wouldn't be answering?"

I took his tone as condescending and responded in kind.

"Fuck you."

He didn't even flinch, the buck shrugging before writing something in his notes and then turning back towards me.

"Although I know part of you won't want to hear this, I do know there's part of you inside that needs some sort of closure to the horror you went through. The lizard, Mike as you know him, was arrested yesterday after the DNA swab matched his. The courts are trying him for second degree rape and physical assault as an adult. He's facing up to twenty years in jail."

"Great deal of good that does me, huh?"

"I know that having him in prison isn't going to erase what happened to you, but we're all doing the best we can to help you."

"Help me? HELP ME?! WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU WHEN MY DAD BEAT ME EVERY DAY? WHERE WERE ANY OF YOU WHEN I CUT MYSELF IN THE BATHROOM EVERY MORNING?!"

I gasped for breath, but I wasn't done and as soon as I saw the buck begin to take a breath to speak again, I continued on.

"Where were you when Mike's cock was stabbing me in the ass while forcing me to drink mine and someone else's vomit from a toilet? You weren't there then and you aren't just going to show up now. I don't deserve help."

"Sable, I know you're feeling a lot of pain rig-"

"YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! None of you do. I don't want help from you now or any other time. Just get out, all of you."

I could see the hesitance in the two raccoons' eyes and so I made myself even clearer.

"GET THE FUCK OUT NOW!"

They didn't take long to leave and soon I was alone inside my new prison. The rage turned to sorrow and pain and it wasn't long before I was sobbing uncontrollably. My paws clenched and I wished to be held in someone's arms, but I didn't deserve that, so I just laid there, my arms and legs trapped to the bed, crying until the sorrow turned to exhaustion and I fell into a dreamless sleep.