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Thicker Than Blood

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Pt.0 – Pity

BZZZ! BZZZ! BZZZ!

…Fuck, it's time to get up again.

The sunlight peered into your room, it's warm touch brushed against your face, only for you to reply with a scowl. You hated the mornings but that didn't even begin to describe how you felt; groggy, apathetic, exhausted. Your heavy eyelids stayed shut while trying to reach for your phone, the source of the noise. Once fingertips touched against metal, you reeled in, clicking a button to silence the damn thing.

Finally…

The alarm brought a new day with the same routine: six o'clock, get out of bed, brush your teeth, shave your face, stand in the shower for who knows how long before the next alarm, put on whatever clothes didn't smell, eat something, then go to work. Some days were different, like today. You didn't get out of bed and you certainly didn't shower. You just laid there looking at the door leading out of your room, looking for some excuse. Why..? The question played on a fixed loop, swirling your head with only more that followed.

Why not five more minutes?

Why should I bother?

Why?

A quick phone call would solve your problem… You were sure your co-workers would understand. It was pretty much the status quo to share your personal life with people you barely knew yet worked alongside, like if their knowledge of your life events would impact their work. The thought only punched your gut even harder knowing that some of them were decent people and here you were, judging them for taking an interest. Regardless, you weren't going. You picked up the phone on the pillow next to you and started dialing.

“Hello?" The voice immediately responded with a cheer to it, almost as if it were taunting you. Must've been Cheryl.

“Yes, this is Vincent. I…" You paused for a split second. What was the excuse this time? Just say the same thing everyone else does. “I'm not coming in today. I don't feel good."

“Vincent. Vin-cent. Okay, hun. Can I get your ID number?"

“Sure. 00-64-230."

“Alright. Just remember, this is your last sick day for the year."

“Yes, ma'am."

“Okay. Take ca-"

You click the hang up button before she could even finish. You didn't want to listen anymore, nor cared to. You just wanted sleep. Placing the phone back to the same spot, you closed your eyes. It seemed like you were hoping for something to happen, laying in that bed, alone with your thoughts… but there was nothing. Hours passed, drifting back and forth between sleep and silent waiting. The day was passing and you wanted to be completely oblivious to it. What then, if you wasted today? Tomorrow would still come with the same challenges from today. You were just delaying it.

That was as good of a reason to coax you out of bed, lifting the sheets in a half-assed attempt to feign anger. It seemed futile to be angry at all. There was nothing, or no-one, to get angry at but yourself. You skipped your routine for the day, it was two in the afternoon and you were staying home. That at least made you feel better – a day to yourself so you could do what you wanted.

A slight rumble in your stomach caught you off-guard. Figures sleeping the day away would only make you hungrier. Another peanut butter sandwich, you thought. How long had it been since you actually shopped for some groceries? The fridge was barren, save for a gallon of milk past expiration and some leftovers a co-worker gave you. You didn't care for tuna but you also didn't want to reject the offer. Either way, both were going in the trash. You stopped yourself to notice the full bin. Shit, did you forget this too? Guess you were leaving the house today after all.

You took whatever sweatpants and loose-fitting band t-shirt was closest and grabbed the bag, filling it with the rest of the garbage. It was pretty heavy, especially with how much milk was left but who could be bothered to tie the thing when it was full to bursting. The dumpster out back was close enough to your apartment door anyway…

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Pt.1 – A Friendly Mistake

It was around three o'clock. Most people were getting off work about now. The mailman had came and went: nothing exciting except bill statements or advertisements. Looks like it goes to the dumpster too. Your hands shuffled around awkwardly, carrying the bag as best as you could while trying to work your apartment door.

“Keys." Which pocket again? “Left side." Alright, keep them in your hands.

You locked the door and headed out to the dumpster past the many parking spots each assigned to a tenant. Most of them were filled, with a few exceptions here and there. As you neared the dumpster, you saw one car drive through the make-shift alleyway real slow, taking its time to back into their spot, right next to yours. Judging from the car, it must've been Grace. She was a Saint Bernard, very sweet but proved time and time again to be a bit of a klutz. Happens when you're an anthro of her size – you'd almost get afraid of everything when you could easily knock something just by turning your body. Still, she was a life saver when you first moved in here. There's no way you were getting the couch inside by yourself. How long ago was that? A year?

Your mind started to wander, thinking of the days before you lived here. Things were better at your parents, that's for sure. You didn't have to think about the bigger issues. You just simply worked for your own benefit and paid a small amount, something you all agreed on. After that argument, though… You didn't want to think about it. All you realized was what you took for granted. Your heart ached, missing those home-cooked family meals instead of scraping by on white bread and mystery meat. All you could muster was a heavy sigh that slouched your shoulders with it.

“Oh well…" you said with a defeated tone, trying your best to get some momentum to toss the trash into the large dumpster.

Then you heard a voice yell, snapping you out of your senses and turning towards its direction.

“Vincent!" It was Grace. She was waving from behind her parked car, wearing her signature glasses, black leggings and white top. It's what she always wore before heading to work. She looked happy to see you, and then…

“LOOK OUT!"

Before you could even react, or even entertain the idea, the bag of trash was raining down. Sour milk, empty boxes, and leftovers covered the once-decent clothes alongside your body. You just stood there, closing your eyes, mouth, and any other orfice, hoping nothing would knock you unconscious. When it was all over, curdled remnants dripped off and threatened your sense of smell. You could see she was just as appalled as you, wasting no time to rush towards the scene.

“Ohmygosh! Are you alright? I'm so, so sorry!" Her expression seemed frantic, not sure what to do but obviously trying to be of some assistance.

“Y-Yeah…"

No you weren't. This was fucking terrible.

“Oh! H-Here, uhm…" She took a look inside the purse that straddled against her arm, possibly looking for a cure-all for this catastrophe. “Use this." Her hand reached out with a pack of wet wipes.

Wet wipes? She was going to solve this with a pack of fucking wet wipes?!

“I'm fine."

Just leave me alone…

“A-Are you-"

“I said I'M FINE!"

You raised your hands in protest, watching as she backed away from you. All of your body was shaking and you didn't even know. Was it anger? Frustration? You didn't care. This was what you got for leaving the house. You deserved this: your arms were covered in various liquids, sweatpants a camouflage of “urban rubbish," and you didn't even want to know what was dangling off your head. So you left, shaking off your arms as best as you could. She just stood there and watched.

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Pt.2 – Some Kind of Luck

Your walk back to the apartment door was, to say it bluntly, uneventful. Thankfully no one else was there to watch what transpired. If there was, maybe things would've ended differently… but this was the reality you lived in. One thing just had to lead into another. That was the sick twist that you couldn't avoid. One mistake you made would cascade into a collection of mistakes. At least it felt like the universe was telling you that much

As you pushed the door open into the building, you reached your apartment number. Room 104. Now all you had to do was… Wait. The feeling of dread sunk into your stomach. Where are your keys? Your arms patted your body in a frenzy, searching for that small tool to allow yourself back into your own home. Where the fuck were they? They're not in your left pocket anymore. You could've sworn you had them when you-

Oh God.

That's when it hit you. For a moment, your memory vaguely saw the glint of metal leaving your fingertips.

A pair of keys. The only thing that made it into that damn dumpster.

You balled up your right hand into a fist, shaking it violently before knocking the door several times in spite. Drippings flicked here and there and a well of tears began to flood your eyes. You didn't know what to do. Your phone was inside, wallet too. You couldn't call anyone or pay for the new key. Even then you had to wait. You couldn't do anything…

“Vincent?"

The meek voice called out to you, causing you to stop dead in your tracks.

“What's wrong?"

It called out to you again. It's tender tone left a tear in your heart.

“V-Vincent..?"

You looked to the source. It was Grace. The concerned gaze from her was all it took to break the dam. The lump in your throat kept you from uttering a word. Panicked breaths were the only thing you could muster from your voice.

“Let me help you."

She took your hand in her warm, fuzzy paw. You did nothing but follow as she led you towards her apartment door, unlocking it with a faint click. Room 103. When the door opened, a waft of air hit your face, breaking the constant smell of garbage with something else. It smelled flowery, inviting. You looked like a disgrace, resigning yourself to whatever plan she had to help. It's a shame too, you were tracking the mess into her home.

“The bathroom's right there. I'll go get you some clean clothes."

The layout of the apartments were all the same, this one was just a bit bigger. She was 6'7" and well over 300 pounds so she needed the extra space. Regardless, you followed her direction towards a door. Inside was exactly what you expected: the same style bathroom, just with a couple female amenities spruced here and there. There were even some candles and matches, which you thought about but didn't bother lighting. With your luck, you'd burn the place down while trying to shower. That wasn't important on your mind, however. You turned your head towards the bottles of shampoo in her shower. All of them were “for a sleek, shiny coat that'll untangle any fur."

You wanted to say something about it, but that just made you realize what kind of person you really were. Despite all of what happened, she managed to stick with you and help out. The tears started to come back. Were you really going to be this much of an ass?

Just get it over with…

You did your best to try and keep all the dirty clothes in one messy pile, hopping into the shower and letting the warm water wash away everything: all the smells, debris, and emotions that came up. Between moments of standing in the shower and feeling sorry for yourself, you managed to clean up fairly well. The shampoo was a blend of lavender and honey, something called “Nature's Coat." A vague memory felt like you knew the brand or had used it before. The smell was familiar, almost lulling you into a sense of happiness, of times you wish you knew better. Deja vu. Your mind was drawing too many blanks so you tried your best to shrug it off. Once you were dry, you took a moment to look at yourself in the mirror.

Your eyes were still puffy and red. You hated this – the look of someone helpless and afraid. It was a side you weren't comfortable with. Who could blame you? No one liked to be vulnerable, but you… you despised it, keeping it locked away as tight as you could. Today was the first time you couldn't control it in a while. Hopefully, it was the last.

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Pt.3 – Buried Memories

Spare clothes were beside the door, fitting an obvious couple sizes too large: a different pair of sweatpants and a large sweatshirt, one that had a weird logo on the front of it. Some kind of dog but drawn in a cute art-style. It wasn't what you would wear around in public, that's for sure, but beggar's can't be choosers. The fresh linen smell also stuck to them with a hint of dog odor. It wasn't bad, it was just… different. Still better than the smell of your clothes by a long shot. You can't remember the last time you'd been around an anthro this close, besides work. That was more mandatory than by choice and the ones you worked with were mainly cat-like.

“Sorry, those were the smallest I had." Grace said shyly.

You kept quiet, nodding your head slightly to show you were at least listening. You noticed she had changed into some casual clothes, sweatpants and tank top, but you didn't want to stare. Silence took over the room. As you both sat on different ends of the living room, she began twiddling her digits.

“Sooo…"

She seemed to be just as good at conversation as a rock. You looked around to see most of her apartment was neatly kept. It wasn't anything fancy and it definitely beat your place. You guessed that's what being an interior designer was all about. She clearly made enough to support herself, so why stay in these apartments? That was definitely not the question to ask right now. Even so, you had to think of something to break this silence. It was only bearable for so long.

“The shower was nice. Thank you." You coldly say, not trying to make too much eye contact. Your face still felt warm and you didn't want to upset her any further.

“Oh! Y-Yeah!" Her large paw reached up to scratch her cheek, “Sorry I didn't have anything else in there… You know, for a human."

You raise a hand, “Don't worry about it. At least I smell better now."

Maybe that would help lighten the mood.

Her tail wagged, “Oh, y-you liked it? It costs quite a bit but it's really, really good stuff. I-I mean, you should know…"

Confusion was etched across your face, raising an eyebrow before you decided to glance at her.

“D-Don't you remember?"

You tried to think of anything similar but come short. Your memory has always been shoddy. Ah, shit. Now you looked like an asshole. Might as well try and look to her for a hint.

“It's alright, it was a long time ago… You bought some for me after I helped you move in. I thought it was strange b-but I really liked how it worked. See?"

You take a second to look at her fur. There was definitely a good shine to her coat: the mix of white, brown, and black fur ran up and down her body in really beautiful waves. You didn't know if you should congratulate yourself, mainly because you bought it on a whim to try and say thanks. She wasn't one to take gifts easily either so maybe a daily amenity would convince her otherwise. Seemed like it stuck with her.

“So, wh-what are you going to do now..?" Her voice hesitated, as if she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do either.

“I don't know… My keys are in the trash. Phone's in my room. So is my wallet." A heavy sigh only followed. You couldn't really come up with a plan since it was the weekend, meaning the landlord's wouldn't be around until Monday. It all felt like a vicious circle. Then, it hit you like a truck – the memories, they all came flooding back.

“Maybe- Maybe they were right. If I had just…" Your voice started breaking again.

Was it really that easy?

“Oh, Vincent." Grace's soft voice whispered, as if you were some kind of wounded animal.

It hurt just hearing it – knowing your emotions were that fragile. You had built yourself up to withstand it, yet here you were, once again your thoughts turned to the past. It was a day, just like the others. Same routine: teeth, shave, shower, clothes, eat, work. You were different – full of energy and ready to take on the world. It wasn't invincibility, just the determination to face what came at you. You greeted the challenge like one of those documentaries that showed the strength of a military's morale. It fueled you to know that you were doing good and honest work.

But when you came home, your parents were getting into a heated argument. It quickly turned from bad to worse when you locked the door. They jumped at you, like a pack of wild animals, and demanded more from you. They knew you had more because of the way you spent your money. What happened to the deal they made? That wasn't the real issue and you knew it. There was something else they weren't saying, something they were hiding and too afraid to admit it.

Debt: the single word that can turn anyone against their own kind, be it family or stranger. No one was safe to it's claws, preferring to loom in the shadows until it bared it's fangs.

The calm suburban home you found refuge in was only days away from foreclosure. You kept telling them the job wasn't just to help around the house. That's when your dad came over, smacking you in the mouth, watching as you fell to the ground. He didn't stop there, standing over you to scold at how ungrateful you were. “This is the thanks we get? After raising you? Feeding you? Keeping you clothed? How fucking dare you!" The fresh taste of blood in your mouth only made you angry. Wishing for some kind of revenge. You fled to your room, locking it as soon as you could and hiding under the covers. The argument continued outside your door for what seemed like an eternity, then, feet shuffled from one room to the next.

Then, silence.

The next day, you didn't go to work. You waited until they left before even thinking of leaving your room. It didn't matter where they went – all you craved for was peace at mind. You took a walk outside to clear your head, one that lasted until dark. By the time you came home, the house was empty: no cars in the driveway, no lingering smell of food, just silence. It wasn't until you heard the sound of a motor approaching that you felt fear. Were they going to be angry at you? Was it just going to be a repeat of yesterday

No. It was much worse. Your heart beat was like a drum in the dead of the night.

It was a police car.

You opened the door.

The lady asked for your name.

You said it without hesitation.

She took off her hat.

You felt yourself sinking.

That's when you found out.

They couldn't control the car.

They were never coming home.