#drunksy

I don't care that she's not my birth mom.  I love her.  No matter what, Drunksy is my Maman.

When Mini was two,

Her name was a nickname

Given to her by her mommy and daddy

Because she was their one and only little baby girl.

And she loved them very much,

And they loved her even more,

And she was happy.

  When Mini was three,

She got a little baby sister,

And she told her mommy and daddy

That she would protect her and keep her safe.

And she loved her sister very much,

And her parents loved them both,

And she was even happier.

  When Mini was five,

She woke up one morning

And her mommy was sad,

And her sister was gone,

So she waited for her daddy to come home.

But he never did,

And she never knew why.

And Mini cried and was sad,

But her mommy needed her,

So she made herself be happy again,

Though she wasn’t happy as she was before.

  When Mini was six,

Her aunt would visit,

But whenever she did,

Mommy would get mad

And things would get thrown sometimes,

So her mommy told her to play outside,

And she went on her own adventures,

And came home to broken dishes,

And gave kisses to her mommy’s boo-boos.

And she wasn’t always happy,

But she was strong for her mommy.

When Mini was seven,

She told her mommy that she wanted to try ballet.

But the teacher would get mad

Because her favorite parts were the spins,

So she would spin around the floor instead of paying attention.

And her daddy never saw her recitals,

But her mommy did,

And she never got to teach her sister the different positions,

But her mommy helped her practice,

So Mini was happy.

  When Mini was eight,

Her mommy stopped having just boo-boos

After her aunt visited.

So her mommy taught her how to sew on a banana,

So she would know how to sew skin,

Because going to the hospital too much would get expensive.

And she practiced over and over

So that she could do it perfect,

And her mommy drew on the bananas to make them zombies.

And they would laugh,

Even though it was still a little scary,

And she taught herself to make happy smiles

Even when she didn’t want to.

  When Mini was ten,

She didn’t want to play outside

When her aunt came to visit.

So she went back in,

And she did what her mommy and aunt did,

But she only got them away from each other

And asked her aunt to go home.

And since she could do that,

Her mommy said that she didn’t have to play outside all the time

As long as she was careful.

So she practiced what she did

Over and over,

So she could do it perfect

And be even stronger.

  When Mini was thirteen,

Her mommy bought her a cell phone.

And whenever her aunt visited

And things started looking bad,

Her mommy would send her a message,

And Mini would come home and fix it.

She missed school a lot,

But she made sure to make it up.

So she still got good grades,

But she was very tired,

And not very happy.

  When Mini was sixteen,

She got the message from her mommy

Saying that she needed to come home right away.

But she thought

That if she stayed with her friends

Just this once

Everything would be all right.

That day

Instead of coming home

To a nice house and a smiling mommy,

She only found

Burnt cinders

And a blackened skeleton.

And she cried in pain,

And she blamed herself for it happening at all,

And she was convinced that she would never be happy again.

  When Mini was seventeen,

She learned that she was all alone.

Because the rest of her family didn’t want

The daughter of the woman

Who had died in the only way that scared them

In their homes,

Reminding them of what had happened.

Instead, they bought her an apartment,

Sent her money for school and food and bills,

And applauded themselves for being such a good family to her.

And the people at school,

Who she thought were her friends,

Didn’t want to deal with her emotions,

Or help her through the loss of the last bit of real family she had left,

And when she was pushed too far and snapped,

They all ran away.

They called her a monster, a freak,

And didn’t speak to her for any other reason.

And all she wanted was to disappear forever,

To get away from the family that hated her,

And the other kids that feared her,

And to get back the one constant source of love that she ever had.

But she never really tried.

She considered it.

She planned it.

But she never went through with it.

Because something in her

Wanted to show everyone

That even a freak and a monster

Could be happy one day.

So she stayed by herself,

And she wasn’t happy at all,

But she was strong,

And that would have to do.

  When Mini was eighteen,

She made a decision.

She was done with being sad all the time.

She was done with being angry at everyone.

So she picked herself up,

Put on her old fake smile,

And went out into the world again.

She made some friends,

And she wasn’t scared,

But she never told anyone about anything that had happened

Years and years ago.

  When Mini was eighteen,

She met a person

Who was sometimes a boy,

And sometimes a girl.

He was always happy to see her,

And he had a very nice smile,

And a very nice laugh,

And was kind,

But even stronger than her.

One day she joked that he was her mother,

And he agreed,

And that day,

He became her maman.

  When Mini was eighteen,

She got a new family.

She had an older brother,

And two younger sisters,

And she loved them very much.

She had a beautiful aunt,

And a really cool uncle,

And she loved them too.

But most important of all,

Was that she had a mother,

Her maman,

Who she loved as much as she loved her mommy,

And who loved her and cared for her.

She knew she had to tell her maman

About the things that had happened

Before they had met.

And she was scared

That what happened before

With everyone else

Would happen again

When she told him the story.

But she knew,

Deep down,

That it would be okay,

And that she would still be loved.

And when she thought of this,

She realized something.

  When Mini was eighteen,

For the first time

In so very long,

She was just as happy

As she had been

Yes that's what I've decided to call these drabble things.

Gonna post this now before I forget coughagaincough

“Yeah. I don’t kill. You have to get me really ticked off to the point of not even thinking rationally. And trust me hon. I may get angry easily, but I do not kill.”

This was not a matter worth killing people over. To murder, to take another’s life, was terrible. It was taking away a person’s loved one or friend. They had dreams, goals, pasts, memories, relationships. She remembered seeing Drunksy’s throat slit. The one who helped build who she was today. He had her realize she was deserving of love. He didn’t die, but it struck her deeply to even pander to the thought of someone else taking his life. Someone she didn’t know. He was suicidal, but at least he was control of his life and she expected his suicide attempts. She didn’t accept he could die that way. But at least, she knew it might happen some day.

But someone else she didn’t know did it. The rapid confusion and terror that took her, that someone who deeply impacted her world was just gone. Done. Just like that. No warning, no mental preparation  Dusky just walked in on a day like any other and saw him bleeding everywhere, his throat slit.

When she expected he’d walk out like the rest and abandon her like most people, he stayed with her. Even when she hurt him, gave away his emotional secrets, and burdened him with her troubles, he always stayed with her. Without him, Dusky would have forever accepted that she was an awful person. A sniveling little thing not worth caring about, always brushing the surface thoughts of people but never really loved or hated. Just some annoying little catgirl nobody cared enough to even dislike. He showed her that she was worth more than just a jester to humans.

And then she realized that to the killer probably didn’t know him. They didn’t know Drunksy’s troubles, his multiple suicide attempts, his self-harm issues, his struggle with depression. The killer didn’t see him laugh or cry. 

D was just another head to them. Another throat to slit. Another paycheck written in bloody ink.

She didn’t kill before that, because killing was wrong. But it strengthened her resolve, made her truly understand the impact of a murder on the victim’s loved ones. A story ended, not with a tragic failing or a victorious triumph, but a slit throat by some faceless person. The Warmonger fire made her see the full devastation she could wreck on others if she lost control again. 

Even if Jay the psychopath could never love Inkit back, to take away the loved one of someone else would have been devastating to the catgirl, because she knew how it felt.