# Just a Jackal

Author: Revresbo
Tags: College, Contemporary, Jackal, Violence (Not In Yiff)

Opening my eyes.&nbsp; That's the first step.&nbsp; It seems simple enough, but it took me nearly ten minutes to manage it.&nbsp; After that comes the slow and stiff standing up, trying to work the kinks out so I can actually walk.&nbsp; Then, I pick up my stuff slowly, taking care not to make any sudden movements.&nbsp; All I can think about is taking a shower, partly because thoughts of the water takes my mind off of impending conversations.&nbsp; Sounds like a pretty normal morning routine, no?

One problem.&nbsp; It isn't morning.

Rather than opening my eyes to a dark room, I'm opening it to grass and trees and sunlight.&nbsp; Instead of getting out of a comfortable bed, I'm picking myself up from the dirt and rocks and dead pine needles.&nbsp; While at home, I'd be grabbing a towel or some clothing, but here, I'm picking up my messenger bag and scattered books.&nbsp; Lastly, rather than wanting to wash the sleep out of my eyes, I'm more concerned with the grime and the blood.&nbsp; Perhaps not a normal afterschool routine for most people, but for me, unfortunately, it was.

Perhaps it would be easier to take if I had done something to my tormentors, but I was probably singled out for the simple reason that I wasn't able to fight back.&nbsp; My body had become more resiliant with time, but I still went home most days with swollen eyes, scratches and cuts, a sore or dislocated tail, and bruises in general.&nbsp; Needless to say, it was a slow walk home.

Home wasn't much of a home.&nbsp; Actually, if home is truly where the heart is, I'm not sure I have one.&nbsp; I was living in a dilapidated apartment in a poor part of town.&nbsp; I'm pretty sure that the building doesn't follow proper safety and health regulations, but it's cheap, so I'm not going to try and report the landlord.&nbsp; If rent was any higher, I would have to choose between shelter and food, and I was already losing weight as it was.&nbsp; So I ignored the occasional bug or whatever else and made of it what I could.

It would be easier to afford a little better if I didn't have to keep spending money on medical supplies.&nbsp; However, once when I left a wound untreated, I got an infection, and the antibiotics cost more than the cleaning agents would have.&nbsp; So I went through with my little ritual day after day, looking in the mirror and cleaning up what I could with as little of everything as possible.&nbsp; After I was done, I looked over my sorry appearence.

I am a golden jackal, though the golden part was hard to see then with the dust coating my fur.&nbsp; Jackals are shorter than a lot of other canines--even coyotes are bigger by a bit--and I was short even for a jackal.&nbsp; My small frame and light weight were points against me, and I wasn't going to grow any taller and my weight, as I said, isn't exactly going up.&nbsp; My fur was originally a sandy-yellow; now, it was mostly brown.&nbsp; My right eye, coloured a rich brown, was staring at me disconsolately in the mirror.&nbsp; My left eye was swollen shut.&nbsp; My shirt was discarded on the floor.&nbsp; They had been more vigorous than usual, and the thing was in tatters.&nbsp; Thin lines of dried blood matted my fur across my torso.&nbsp; My jeans were in better shape, though just as dirty as the rest of me.&nbsp; My lower body was sore but not bleeding.&nbsp; I took my jeans off.&nbsp; I wouldn't need them in the shower.&nbsp; Without the loose fabric, it was plain to see I was standing awkwardly, not placing much weight on my left leg.&nbsp; I had limped all the way back.&nbsp; I grabbed the back of my briefs and slowly pulled them down, wincing as I got rid of the wedgie they had given me.&nbsp; I hadn't bothered to do anything about it on the way home because it hurt about as much to get rid of it as it did when it was given.

I started walking to the bathroom, untying and removing my bandana as I did so.&nbsp; It was a miracle that it had stayed on my head intact during the beating.&nbsp; It needed a good wash, though--just like me.&nbsp; I ran a paw through my hair as I started the water for a shower.&nbsp; After giving it a moment to heat up, I jumped in and set about removing the dirt from my fur.&nbsp; It was tiresome work, but I was used to it.&nbsp; Finally, I could get out, dry off, and set my clothes, minus the shirt, in my laundry basket.

I sighed as I looked at the shirt.&nbsp; I didn't have many, and I couldn't afford to go out and buy more.&nbsp; With great reluctance, I threw it out.&nbsp; _Maybe_, I though cynically, _I should strip before next time.&nbsp; The body heals, but shirts don't._

The phone rang.&nbsp; I didn't have caller ID, but I could guess who it was.&nbsp; Few enough people called me, so it had to be work.&nbsp; I ignored it.&nbsp; I was in no position to listen to my boss yell at me.&nbsp; Maybe I'd be fired, but right then, I didn't give a damn.&nbsp; I went to the couch and gingerly curled up on it, not bothering to put clothes on.&nbsp; The fabric would only irritate my wounds.&nbsp; Without TV, I was forced to simply lie there, listening to the phone ring futilely, thinking...

\*

_My mom holds me close, letting me cry.&nbsp; I can hear glasses clinking in the kitchen.&nbsp; Dad must be pouring himself a drink.&nbsp; I feel I could use one myself.&nbsp; Dad always said it made him feel better, so why shouldn't it help me?&nbsp; I don't bother suggesting it to my mom, though.&nbsp; I already know her answer._

_She starts whipsering in my ear.&nbsp; It's a quiet song, a lullaby she sang to me as a pup._

_"When night is dark  
And the daylight cold,  
Never forget  
What you've been told:_

_No matter what  
You are my son,  
And I will love you  
Whatever you've done."_

\*

The phone rang again, interrupting my thoughts.&nbsp; Groaning, I reached over brought it to my ear.&nbsp; I tried to say "Hello?" but I was so groggy that it might have been just about anything.

"JC?&nbsp; It's Joyce."

"Oh, hey."&nbsp; I shook my head to clear it.&nbsp; It worked but made me wince in pain.&nbsp; I still couldn't see out of my left eye at all.

"Amanda called in sick five minutes ago, and we could really use someone to sort out the back.&nbsp; Can you come in?"

"Well, I'd like to," I said, glancing at my watch, "but the buses aren't as good at this time of day. It would probably take me forty minutes or more to get there."&nbsp; I was secretly breathing a sigh of relief.&nbsp; This call was from work, but it was my other job.&nbsp; I got along fine there.&nbsp; Most of my coworkers were good, and the management was reasonable.

"Tell you what.&nbsp; It's really slow for customers right now, so I'll tell Miranda that I'm slipping out for a few minutes and come pick you up."

I was momentarily silent as I tried to absorb what was just said.&nbsp; "Um, you don't have to.&nbsp; I could walk or something."

"No, I'm sure it'll be fine.&nbsp; Just give me your address."

"Really, Joyce--"

"I insist.&nbsp; Your address?"

I gave in.&nbsp; I knew better than to try to argue with a woman.&nbsp; I gave her the address and then hurried to find my work clothes.&nbsp; Even though I worked in the back, I still had to dress the part.

I waited on the front step of the apartment building, dressed in black slacks and a white shirt.&nbsp; I never wore them anywhere but work to preserve them from the treatment my earlier clothing got.&nbsp; I was only outside for a few minutes before Joyce pulled up in her two-door Ford Focus.&nbsp; I let myself in, quickly doing up my seatbelt.&nbsp; I'd driven with Joyce before.

"I can't belive Miranda just let you slip off."

"Ugh, it is _so_ dead in there.&nbsp; We just need someone in the back to sort stuff and whatnot."

She glanced over at me and then did a doubletake.&nbsp; "Joyce, the road?"

"Fuck the road!" she responded with her usual eloquence.&nbsp; How she could be so different with coworkers and customers was beyond me.&nbsp; "What happened to you?"

"I fell while walking through the park," I replied.&nbsp; Not strictly a lie, just not the whole truth.

"But your eye!&nbsp; That doesn't look good."

"I've had worse, Joyce.&nbsp; Really."

"When?&nbsp; How?"

_Shit_.&nbsp; "I'm rather accident-prone."

"I find that hard to believe."&nbsp; She glanced over at me again.&nbsp; "I don't think you've had a single incident in the back since you started."

"Look, Joyce, I'm fine.&nbsp; Really.&nbsp; Tomorrow I should be good as new."

"If you say so."&nbsp; She sounded rather dubious saying it.&nbsp; The conversation was cut short by our arrival at work, though.&nbsp; For Joyce, speed limits were at least ten klicks more than posted.&nbsp; "Well, don't strain yourself in the back too much."

"I won't," I assured her.

The shift was rather uneventful.&nbsp; I was the only person back in receiving, so the work was quiet and fairly productive even without depth perception.&nbsp; When closing time rolled around, Joyce offered me a ride home.&nbsp; When I refused, she told me I was getting a ride whether I wanted it or not, so get in the damn car.

She was uncharacteristically silent on the way back.&nbsp; When we stopped outside my building, though, she made an unexpected requst.&nbsp; "Mind if I come in?&nbsp; I'd like to see where you live."

"It's really not much."

"I'd still like to see it."

I acquiesced as gracefully as possible.&nbsp; I felt mildly embarrassed leading her in there.&nbsp; It wasn't that my apartment was a mess.&nbsp; It was that the whole building was.

Once we got situated, her on the couch, me on a kitchen chair, she asked the question that I'm sure had been bugging her during her whole shift.

"JC, what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Cut the crap.&nbsp; We both know you didn't fall.&nbsp; Not only is your eye swollen, I can see you wincing when you move, and I could see you limping on the way into the store.&nbsp; What happened?"

"I did fall," I said irritably.&nbsp; "I was just helped on my way down."

"When?&nbsp; Where?&nbsp; By whom?"&nbsp; I'd forgotten just how inquisitive she could be, but it was all rapidly coming back.

"Today, in the park, and by the same guys who do it everyday.&nbsp; I don't know all their names."

"Wait, this has happened before?"

"Pretty much everyday at universiy."

"Well, you need to report them!"

"I tried that.&nbsp; Didn't accomplish much."

"But--"

"Look, Joyce, it's just how it is.&nbsp; I've accepted it."

She looked downcast at that.&nbsp; "You shouldn't have to."&nbsp; I heard her say it, but it was quiet enough for me to ignore.

"Thanks for the rides.&nbsp; I could use the shut-eye, though, so I'm afraid you'll have to go."

"Okay," she said, still looking down.&nbsp; "Talk to you later."

I watched her walk out.&nbsp; I felt a momentary pang of guilt.&nbsp; She was, after all, only trying to help.&nbsp; I was beyond help, though.&nbsp; Life just was.&nbsp; With that closing thought, I laid myself out on the couch and fell asleep.

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/5nzY72Om