FSE

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A tired, sluggish mix of a groan and grumble escapes your lips as the early signs of light bleeding through the curtain greets your eyes. With a quick check at the alarm beside you, you mumble quietly and try to bring your hand to wipe at your eyes, but you find it weighed down and unable to move. As you wipe the gunk away from your tired and sore eyes with your other hand, you realize you're not alone in bed. For a moment, your heart beats frantically in your chest as you feel that familiar, yet disconcerting feeling of fur against your skin. You take quick breaths and fight against your fear to look down, breathing out a sigh of relief as you realize it's just your daughter nestled against your arm. Your nausea didn't seem to care whether it was your daughter's fur against your skin or not, the panic spreading regardless and refusing to wane despite all rational thinking. You quickly remember what you did to her last night and instantly begin to feel the sting of guilt stab your heart like several thousand needles.

While said guilt had eventually overwhelmed your initial response of fear, she was already asleep when you had forced yourself to bring her over to you. For all she would know, you still hold contempt to her just wanting to be with her dad and fight off her nightmares by sleeping with him. You almost want to gently nudge her awake to apologize, but you decide to let the sleeping bun lie and opt to tell her once she woke up on her own. Still, feeling disgusted at yourself feels like an understatement. You had no excuse for shoving her away as forcefully as you did and demanding that she slept by herself. You feel sick all over, leaving you hoping that you could help tithe things over with her and-

More bile begins to sting and burn your throat. You feel a rising pressure begin to strain your stomach and chest, leaving you with the startling realization of why you feel so awful. Ignoring any careful grace, you pull your arm away from Sally and leave the bed in a hurry. You throw open the bedroom door and quickly enter the bathroom, the vomit ready to spill out of your mouth as you frantically lift the toilet seat up. You thankfully avoid any messes as you empty your innards into the bowl in excruciating pain, giving you the slightest of relief. After several minutes of mind-numbing agony, you hope that it's the last of what's left inside of you and sit down on the edge of the bathtub. You flush the ick down and groan again as you bring your hand to your eyes. At least you know now that it wasn't food poisoning, but you also hope it hadn't already spread to Megan and Amanda.

However, such hopes diminished in an instant as your two gray-coated daughters slowly stumble into the bathroom. With as much speed as you could muster, you order Megan to have the toilet and Amanda to use the tub, then sluggishly leave to fetch some water as you, unfortunately, hear the ensuing sounds of illness echo from the sickly smelling bathroom.

-

"Hey," you struggle to speak through the phone. "Don't... bother coming over today. We've all got it."

"Oh, damn, I- That's awful to hear," Ruby replies. "So every one of them's got the bug?"

"Yeah... Sally and Lisa probably will be better, but, I don't know," you say, pausing every so often to try and mitigate the burning in your throat. "I... want to say tomorrow, but I don't know. I don't want you or anyone else to get it though."

"Alright... Well, let me know if I should pick them up tomorrow later on. Hope you and the others get to feeling better."

"Thank you... You... have a good day."

"You too, Dave. Bye."

"Bye."

As she hangs up, you drop your phone into your lap and recline back into your chair. The pounding in your head pairs horribly with the aches throughout your body, making you wish that you could return to bed and sleep the day away. Remembering that your sick daughters are relying on you to care for them throughout their illness fills you with the energy you need to peel yourself away from your chair. The room begins to spin as you look around and you quickly grab hold of one of the chair's arms to steady yourself. Once you feel you've regained your balance, you slowly shuffle towards the bathroom. Though you've long since cleaned up the sick in the bathroom, that acrid smell still lingers in the air. You desperately need something to settle your stomach, especially if you want to have any hope of being able to cook or watch over your daughters. A quick rummage through your medicine cabinet proves to be a bust as you're out of anything that might've been able to quell the queasiness in your stomach.

You know that going out to the store and leaving your daughters unattended just isn't an option, and you dread the thought of asking your parents to watch them. While you know your mother wouldn't mind in the slightest, you can already imagine your father's judgemental gaze on you if he were to tag along or merely find out. You rack your brain as you try and figure out a way to get the medicine without leaving the house. Ruby and a few other friends briefly cross your mind but you don't want to inconvenience them more than you already have. A glance down at your watch tells you dinnertime is approaching quickly, and you don't even know what you should make for dinner. Soup comes to mind seeing as both you and your daughters can barely keep anything down, though even you feel tired at the thought of having canned soup to eat. You think about just ordering something to eat, though nothing "easy on the stomach" immediately comes to mind. Pizza, no good. Chicken tenders, absolutely not. Toast is still an option, albeit one you aren't interested in having yourself.

However, you do recall Chinese takeouts having soups. It would be simple enough and it hopefully wouldn't cause any complaints from the four. Egg drop or miso soup will work just fine, although that still leaves what to get in regards to medicine up. You suppose you could just weather through it, maybe your daughters too since Lisa and Sally look to be better and haven't shown any signs of a fever or need to vomit again. But with how miserable you're feeling now, you already feel tired just imagining yourself tomorrow... or the day after that. Regardless, you push through with the plan and order for a delivery of soups, do a quick check on the four resting in their bedroom as you wrap up the call, then collapse onto the couch to fumble through the TV for something to distract you from the aches while you wait.

Past the colorful array of children cartoons cluttering the suggestions, you attempt to look for something interesting. Very little catches your attention, and the movies that do you know for sure will have lengthy amounts of cursing that your daughters will inevitably hear and repeat. You give a dry chuckle at the thought of how your father showed very little care for what he used to watch when you were a kid. He would still warn you not to repeat anything you heard when watching movies or TV shows with him unless you wanted to "really find a reason to be cursing", and, admittedly, it did work. You highly doubt you can get similar results out of the four, or hell, even out of little quiet Sally, at least not until they're all older. Besides, you don't want to go to those lengths with any of them, though it does leave you worried about how you'll carry out punishments once they get older.

Sighing, you continue to click through the selection until you settle on a comedy you loosely remember your dad liking. The cover has a shirtless man holding two animals in his hand, and while you don't remember the movie yourself, you at least remember how often your dad quoted something from it. It probably still has a curse here and there, but maybe you'll get lucky and none of your girls will hear it. You rent the movie and grab a glass of water while you let it load. As you slowly return to the couch, you almost spill your drink out of surprise when you sit down and suddenly see one of your gray furred daughters on the other end buried under a cover. She lifts her head from the armrest to look at you, and she still looks as tired as she did earlier this morning.

"Hey, Meg. You feeling OK, sweetie?"

She pauses for a second, then quietly replies, "I'm not Megan, Daddy."

"Ah, uh, sorry, Amanda. You feel better from this morning?"

"A little. What are you watching?"

You look back at the screen, the loading bar being close to done. "Just... a comedy."

"What's a comedy?" she asks as she follows your eyes and looks at the TV.

"It's a funny movie."

"Oh... Can I watch?"

You consider saying no, but honestly, you feel too burnt out to say it, explaining why you said it, then look for something else to watch. "Sure, honey."

As she rests her head back into the armrest, you think back to last night with Sally. With a bit of guilt still fresh on your mind, you shift yourself closer to your sick daughter. You run your hands through the fur on top of her head and at your touch, she leans over to rest against your arm. As the movie begins, you warn, "Now, there may be some things said that you shouldn't say. I'll... let you know which. All right?"

"All right, Dad."

You doubt the five-year-old would understand or follow what you meant, but your tired mind takes this as a small victory regardless. You lean your head back into the seat cushion and let out a sigh as you try to relax, a small part of you thankful that for now, you don't feel uncomfortable sitting with one of your daughters as you wait for dinner to arrive. As you run your hand through the fur on top of her head again, you look at her long, droopy ears and figure you could probably cover them if a curse is said... somehow. Maybe you just need to cover where the holes are? You can't say you know for sure without trying. Raising your other hand, you quickly, yet gently cup your hands over her ears and say the first thing that comes to your mind. "Snow."

She bends her head away from you as you lift your hands and asks a confused, "What?"

"Did you hear what I just said?"

"No?"

"OK, good, good... Nevermind, was just... something my mom, uh, your grandmother used to do with me."

Seemingly content with the answer, she rests her head back against you. You're thankful for this bit of quiet as the movie begins to start, at least until she asks, "Who's that?"

"I... don't know, sweetie."

"Is he the bad guy?"

"Maybe."

"He has a mustache. Bad guys have mustaches."

You let out a tired sigh as you realize that unlike her sisters, she just loves to ask questions about everything and anything happening in the movie, and it's unlikely to ever stop.

"Why did that guy fall down?"

You take a long drink from your cup of water as she starts to ask another question.

-

After several days, the sickness finally cleared up, much to your and your daughters' relief. Lisa and Sally went to school the next day while you watched over the less quiet Amanda and Megan. Despite their illness, they remained almost as playful as they would otherwise, at times, making you question if they were sick at all. Amanda, thankfully, hadn't repeated any of the words you weren't quick enough to cover her ears from. However, a small part of you expects you'll soon be hearing from a teacher about her childish shouts, featuring one too many bad words, spouted in glee. For the most part, whatever time you spent not working or taking care of the girls was watching TV or movies. Amanda, and sometimes Megan, would join you on the couch, with the former always speaking her mind no matter the movie and no matter the scene.

Sometimes, you'd break up the monotony of commercials and try talking to the two when your head wasn't pounding. From what you could garner, Amanda only seemed interested in going back to school to play during recess and see her friends, while Megan just wants to be with Lisa and Sally. Both seem to like their teacher; Megan seems excited to now know how to count and add, even boasting that she can count to a hundred despite getting stuck around the twenties. Amanda doesn't seem as caught up, though you do know she can read most words whereas Megan has trouble. You congratulate the two where you can and wonder if you could step in to help them both keep up. You also begin to worry about the future, not giving much thought before as to how you'll manage four kids, each with their shortcomings in school.

It's probably way too early to be thinking about tutors, but it wouldn't hurt if you tried to help where you could. The cost of it would also be an issue, and hell, probably even time if it required a daughter to be somewhere to be tutored. Maybe you'll ask Ruby... It is close to the time she wanted to talk with you. You had already told her yesterday when you were picking up the girls that you were still available for today, though you still feel uncertain. You have a feeling she wanted to talk about something important, either back when you met her or until now, her insistence on pushing to earlier this week no doubt feeding your paranoia.

It's hard to deny the pit in your gut, but a promise is a promise, and there is only one way to see if you are right or wrong. After parking the car and paging the front desk, waiting for the door to unlock, you internally argue that it might just be how you feel about anthro women. You haven't had that strong of a reaction to her as you had to others in the past. Maybe it's because you haven't been alone with her? The door opens, and you make your way to her classroom after getting your visitor pass. You find her door and knock.

"Come in!" you hear spoken loudly behind the door. You take hold of the door handle, and for a moment, consider calling the whole thing off. You worry about this chat quickly becoming another mistake, one that you'll keep yourself awake at night over. While you do your best to shake it off, a few deep breaths are enough to steel your nerves and push you into the classroom. You see her sifting through some papers and organizing them into a neat pile as you enter. For some reason, this only further reinforces your worries.

"Sorry if I'm late, I... kind of lost track of time on the way here," you say with an apologetic smile. "I'm not interrupting anything important, am I?"

"Oh, nah, you're not interrupting anything, mate. I was just getting some stuff organized to take home with me later," she replies with a warm smile. "Kids won't be back from P.E. for another half hour or so, I think."

"You sure? I don't mind doing this another time if you've got work to do," you say, offering her a chance to back out of the conversation.

"Trust me, David, you're not imposing in the slightest," she says, finally putting down the stack of papers. "Been meaning to catch up with ya' for a while now. Always wondered where you got off to after you stopped showing to class."

"If you say so," you say, racking your brain for an answer to her question. You're not sure if you should speak honestly and describe how you dropped out of college shortly after first meeting her. She looks to you expectantly for an answer, and you reluctantly speak.

"I, uh, ended up dropping out, actually. Had a lot of stuff happen that year."

"Ah, I'm sorry. I'm guessing the little ones were part of that stuff, yeah?"

"Huh?"

"Oh sorry, I uh, meant your daughters. They've been nothing but a joy in the classroom."

You don't know how to answer. You could play along and say that they were, but that was about a year after you had dropped out before she- ...Before they were born. "N-No, that... they happened later. It was some other stuff I... had to deal with. It's all fine now."

"Ah, gotcha," she responds, taking a brief moment to glance at the clock on the wall. "So... four girls, huh? Guess that was a real surprise."

"Yeah," you say, swallowing some spit for your suddenly dry throat and mouth.

"I... guess I should go ahead and ask," she starts. Already you begin to feel an unnerving twitch in the muscles inside your neck. "You don't have to if you don't want to but... a few days ago we had a little family tree sheet for the kids to do. Gave it to Megan and Amanda, and... they both said they don't know who their mom is." You remain silent, but you wouldn't know what to say regardless other than a panicked stutter. "Lisa and Sally drew a rabbit when they got back to school, but... I'm sorry, I shouldn't be prying into this if it's something you don't want to talk about."

"I... I'm sorry, but I- I don't really talk about that with anyone," you manage to stutter. Your mouth begins to ache as you come to the realization you were clenching your jaw. An uncomfortably lengthy pause was shared between you and Ruby. You take a look at the clock before looking back at the papers on her desk, a part of you now afraid to look her in the eyes.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up," she eventually speaks, her tail fidgeting just barely out of sight beside the desk. "I, uh, just... figured it was something you might want to know about. Forget I even mentioned it."

You wished you could.

Another pause is shared before you croak out, "So they're fine?"

"Yeah, they're fine, I got them to work on the other parts of the worksheet instead. Sorry if that the wrong thing to do, I've never really had to deal with anything like this before."

"It's... It's fine. I had to tell them that their... Nevermind," you respond. You take another look at the clock. You try to keep your mind off of the painful headache and ask, "Um, so... I wanted to ask about... tutors or if I should be helping them because Amanda isn't... doing too good with adding I heard."

"It's a bit early for them to be tutored, but I can help out during class if you'd like me too. Let you know how they're all doing."

"Yeah, thank you. The, uh, others doing OK too?"

"Yeah, they've been trying out all the stuff in the classroom during free time," she smiles. "Sally's always looking forward to class storytime, and she's been reading a few of the books on her own time. Told her she could check some of them out to take home if she wants, and she seemed pretty excited about it. Lisa's been doodling and drawing a few things, was going to see about getting her started with some crayons during free time next week."

"Oh, I... didn't know. I'll, uh... See about getting some crayons and stuff to read." You want to take another look at the clock, but you stop yourself to avoid being rude. "Has... anything else happened at recess? I mean, with Lisa or any of the other girls?"

"Nothing that I or any of the other teachers on recess duty have noticed, no. I spoke to the other kid's parents about it already and they were surprised to hear that happened too. They reassured me they'd talk to their child about the behavior."

"That's... good," you respond. You try to steer your mind away from the blatant lie, but just the mention of parents has the truth of the matter ring maddingly in your head. You know exactly what happened to their mother. Just like before when with your daughters, you feel nauseous. Breathing is slowly becoming more of a chore and you haven't even said a word, let alone been asked a question.

"David? You all right?" Ruby asks in worry.

"I...." you mumble, uncertain if you should lie and say you're fine. "No, I'm... God, I... should just... talk about it." Fighting against your slowly panicking mind and stumbling mouth, you decide to try and make sure your story is straight. "My w-w-wi- Nnf...." you start, the disgusting word refusing to leave your dry mouth. "My... wife... She died. When they were born." Your jaw begins to hurt again as you clench it tightly, finding it hard to keep yourself emotionally stable as you lie through your teeth.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she softly speaks with a worried look. "I'm sure she was a wonderful woman."

You almost stopped breathing at the word wonderful. What she did to you... No, your daughters are wonderful. She is anything but. "Y-Yes... She- Oh, God," you reply, forced to stop as a twinge of stomach acid crawls up your throat and into your mouth. Your vision begins to blur as tears threaten to leave your eyes. You wipe at your eyes, already feeling pathetic on top of your anxiety attack.

"David?" you hear her say, your downward cast eyes seeing her shadow stand up from her desk and approach you. "You alright? Just... take some deep breaths, you'll be alright." You look up, only to flinch away out of your seat with a loud gasp as you see her hand near your shoulder. She too flinches back, pulling her hand away as her expression shows a mix of worry and uncertainty.

"I-I'm f- I'm fi- fine," you mutter through choked breaths. You want to get out. Find any sort of excuse to leave before you ruin this any more. Maybe it will prevent whatever incident might come from your panicked self. Come back when you've calmed down, apologize about it all, make amends-

"Hey just... keep taking deep breaths," she says, the concern in her eyes betraying the reassuring smile on her face. "Let's go to the teachers' lounge and we'll get you some water, alright? I'm so sorry about what happened to your wife, I... had no idea."

"... She's not my wife." Just one whisper was all it took. One whisper that left your subconscious and out your mouth to sap all energy out of the room. All it took to finally break you down into a disgusting sob. You take a deep breath and look up, Ruby's expression an unreadable mix dominated by sheer confusion. Her mouth moves, most likely to ask what you had said or what you meant, but you repeated yourself in a louder, broken voice. "Sh-She's not my w-wife. I... I... Oh, God..."

Your mind screams at you to stop, but past the violent gasps for air, you continue to break down to a stunned Ruby. "She... She... Oh, God... She's... she's not dead. I- I didn't... I didn't... I didn't know what else to say, I..." You gasp for air again, your message broken by a shuddering sob. You wipe the back of your hand against your eyes and take a deep breath in. "I couldn't... just... let them know. I couldn't tell my little girls about... F-Fuck..."

Past the point of no return, your mouth struggles to tell her the truth of it all. Your tongue stumbles over itself in the brief moments of breath you could retain before you could finally speak with clarity. "She... She r- r- ra- God... She rape- She raped- Fuck." With one final gasp for air and steeling of your stressed nerves, you say, "She raped me."

And then there was silence. All you could hear was your pained breathing in the quiet room. You slowly manage to steady your breathing, even if the deafening silence almost made you break into sobs once again. "She... she took me. B-broke into my... Fuck... I g-got away, but she came back. L-left four little babies at my house. I- I couldn't... I couldn't just...." you trail off, your moment of clarity having run out.

"David, it's going to be okay, just breathe," she says, a panicked look in her eyes as she briefly looks over to the window. You can hear the sound of kids starting to distantly echo through the halls. The feeling that a teacher other than Ruby will see you or god forbid, your daughters get a glimpse of the blubbering mess you've been reduced to sends even more waves of panic rocking through you. "Let's go to the teachers' lounge and get you some water. I'll buzz the front office and have them send someone to watch the kids for a little while, okay?"

Despite your body's insistence to stay rooted in your seat, the thought of your daughters seeing you pushes you to your feet. You don't say a word to Ruby as you follow her to the lounge and focus on keeping your breathing steady. Thankfully, no one was inside the lounge. You take the nearest seat as Ruby fetches you a glass of water. "I... I'm sorry, but I need to go back to the class. Just... come in whenever you're ready." She approaches the door and looks back at you. You think she wants to say something, but whatever that might be won't be known to you as she exits into the hallway.

You remained in that lounge until you could see the white return to your eyes. Your nose still sniffed with each breath, but you would argue it to be an allergy if asked. It was around ten or so minutes after when you usually pick the four up that you finally entered the classroom, but none of them raised a fuss. You give a small smile to the four as they each come up to hug or talk over one another about their day. They soon each turn to Ruby and say their goodbyes, with Ruby returning the courtesy until you were the last one. For the briefest of moments, you could see her warm expression break. Her eyes conveyed a different message than her smile as she wished you goodbye. As you bring the four to the car, you feel cold apprehension well up inside of you as you realize that the look she gave you would most likely never change.