#uncategorized writings

He hated it. He knew he couldn't simply erase the pain he inflicted on Whumpee, but he didn't think it would be so hard to gain their trust. It had been weeks and Whumpee was allowed to walk freely around the house, was given decent meals and Whumper hadn't laid a finger on them. What else could he do?

He thought back to his conversations with his friend, the one who had unknowingly convinced Whumper to free Whumpee. His friend always complained when he spoke as if he knew better than Whumpee, or as if his wishes were the only thing that mattered.

Right, he had to listen to Whumpee. Only they knew what they needed.

"If you could ask something from me, anything, what would ask?" He asked. Straight to the point.

Whumpee bit their lip. They wouldn't meet Whumper's eyes, but that's how they always were. Whumper was afraid the question had the opposite effect from what he intended.

"I want to give you something." He added. "It can be anything. Object or action, anything. Surely there must be something you wish for?"

Whumper asked himself what he would have answered if he was in Whumpee's shoes. If he was in front of someone who had beaten them mercilessly almost every day for years. Someone who had done nothing but hurt him since they first met.

The thing Whumper would wish the most from someone who treated him like this would be to pay it back, even if just a little bit.

He couldn't imagine Whumpee asking for it, but surely they desired it. If they did ask, Whumper decided he would give it. He would stay still and let Whumpee do to them as they wished. Maybe give them a few hours to let it all out.

Maybe it would help them see that Whumper was being sincere.

It was more likely that they would ask for something else. Maybe something for their room, a nicer pillow, or a warmer blanket. Maybe some specific food. Maybe even to be taken away, far away from Whumper, so they wouldn't have to see his face every day. That could be arranged too.

(Did they even know, that there were nicer pillows and warmer blankets? Did they know there were so many comforts and luxuries in the world? They have been locked ever since Whumper bought them, and he didn't know anything about their life before that. Did they have a favorite food, a favorite drink? Was there anything they missed from their life before Whumper?)

Whumpee had no idea of what Whumper wanted to hear. Whumper never asked them questions, never cared for what they thought or felt. He never even asked for them to stop screaming and crying, unbothered by it.

Should they ask to be beaten? Were they supposed to come up with their next punishment? Whumper usually disliked begging, didn't forbid it but always punished them for it. He never told Whumpee to beg to be hurt.

Whumpee missed being chained up. Whumper wouldn't talk to them, and they didn't have to think about what to do. They just had to stay there and take whatever pain Whumper gave them. There was no way to mess up that.

Whumpee decided to be honest. Maybe Whumper really wanted to know something they wanted, so they would decide if Whumpee deserved it or not. Whumpee doubted they did. Whumper these days always had to explain things twice, three times until Whumpee got it.

They opened their lips but closed them again.

"Hm?" Whumper asked, having noticed it.

"I'm sorry," Whumpee said, but Whumper didn't look mad. He looked like he wanted them to explain themself. "I thought of something, but it's absurd. It's certainly not what you meant."

"It can be absurd." Whumper smiled softly. It was a smile that didn't fit them, that always made Whumpee feel messed up inside. "Just tell me, and I will tell you if it can be done. If not, you can choose something else."

Whumpee had to come up with something Whumper approved, keep trying until they got it right. They wondered what the punishment for each wrong answer would be.

"I... if I could ask for anything," they paused, swallowed. "I-I know it is too much, and I don't deserve it, but if it could be anything..."

They raised a hand to their own chest, feeling the scars under their shirt. That had been the worst day of their life. Master usually wasn't very creative with his punishments, mostly sticking with beatings and whippings. But once in a while, he tried something new.

"If I c-could, if I could ask you... please, please don't punish me with hot water again!"

Whumper needed a moment to process the request. Whumpee seemed to mistake his surprise for anger, as they soon started apologizing.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know I don't deserve it. You know better, of course, you do, Sir, I know. I will take anything you give me, and I will be thankful. I promise!"

"It's alright," Whumper said. He wanted to reach out to touch Whumpee's shoulder, to comfort them, but he knew they would flinch and then apologize for it. "I'm just... why don't you just ask me to not punish you at all?"

"I'm sorry! I would never, I wouldn't even consider- I know my place! I promise I do! I am yours for you to do as you wish. I'm sorry, I know I sound like a lazy, ungrateful slave, but I promise I'm not. I will do anything, anything to prove it!"

Now it was them offering Whumper anything. Whumper couldn't help but be disgusted. Not at Whumpee, Whumpee did nothing wrong. They were just trying to be safe.

He was disgusted at how the best thing, the one they wanted the most, was not to be hurt in that particular way. Not to never be hurt again, not to be sent away, not to hurt Whumper. Just not to be burned. He was disgusted that even making such a small request, even after Whumper assured them they could ask for anything, they still thought they were asking for too much. They thought they didn't deserve it, that they deserved to be burned whenever Whumper wished.

Most than all, he was disgusted that they thought that wishing to live better, wishing not to be hurt were crimes they must prove they were innocent of. Wasn't it natural for any human, any animal even, to wish to be safe? Even if the wish couldn't be true. Whumpee never fought or showed defiance, but Whumper never thought... not even in the past days, before deciding to free Whumpee, Whumper would never have punished them for wanting it to stop.

He had no idea how broken Whumpee truly was.

"I will do it" Whumper said, interrupting Whumpee's apologies. "What you asked. I'll do it. I promise I won't burn you again."

Whumpee sighed in relief.

"Thank you. Thank you, sir, you are so kind. I promise I will be good for you, sir."

They stood in the center of the room, hands behind their back, gaze down, as Caretaker checked the living room for any dust they missed.

"Did you clean the whole house?"

"Yes, Master."

"What about the bathrooms?"

They had to keep the door and the window closed as they worked with bleach and other strong chemicals in the bathrooms. The first time they had passed out and failed to finish their other chores, but soon they learned to work quickly before it got to that point.

"Yes, Master."

"The basement?"

The basement wasn't cleaned often, and all the dust made them sneeze a lot. Something bit their fingers as they moved the boxes. They didn't want to know what it was.

"Yes, Master."

"The garden?"

They weren't allowed gloves in the garden. Pricks and thorns pierced their skin. Master ordered them to always do this part when the sun was the highest in the sky. They couldn't take a plastic bag outside, they instead had to carry all the leaves and dirt on their arms, being careful not to let any fall, the sun burning their bare back.

"Yes, Master."

"Did you clean yourself?"

After all the cleaning, they were allowed to clean themself. Not in the bathrooms they had just cleaned, of course. They used the hose outside. The neighbors could see them, but they just ignored the whispers. They had seen a phone pointed at them once. Caretaker had said it was good, it taught them to be humble.

"Yes, Master."

Caretaker nodded. They never praised them, not wanting to spoil them.

"It's time for dinner. You're cooking for two people today. Whumpee is coming."

When they first started living with Caretaker, they had never cooked before. They still burned themself sometimes, but from the lack of punishments lately they supposed their meals were at least edible now.

"Yes, Master."

"You already know what you're supposed to do, right?"

They were to make themself invisible every time Whumpee visited. They were not to show their ugly face to them.

"Yes, Master."

With that, they went to the kitchen.

It had been a few days since Whumpee had managed to run away, and so far they have been lucky in not being caught again. However, even as they planned their escape the possibility of success had been so distant that they hadn't given any thought about how to survive once they were out.

It had been a few days since Whumpee had last been spoken to, even to be insulted, a few days since they had last been touched, even to hurt, a few days since they had last eaten. They drunk water from puddles after it rained or the ones that formed under air conditioners. It wasn't as if they had never drunk from the ground before. Food was harder to find. No one left it out in the open, where it could attract all sort of pests, strays like Whumpee included. Asking for it from a passerby was too dangerous and unlikely to get them anything but trouble.

Whumpee soon realized they would have to steal. Restaurants and markets were all locked when closed, and they weren't smart enough to pick the locks, but they had seen the restaurants' workers throwing out leftovers into large trash cans that no one bothered to lock. They waited until it was night and the shops were closed to walk to the back of one of those restaurants, careful to be as silent as they could.

They kneeled by the trash can, feeling almost as if they were asking for its permission. It was a comforting feeling. Doing things without receiving permission was still a foreign thing to them. They slowly opened the lid, just a little, a strong scent invading their nostrils. It was of food, different kinds of food mixed and their scents clashing and fighting for attention, over something sour and dirty and nauseating. Whumpee's stomach growled, and that was enough for them to ignore the unpleasant part. They never deserved any luxury, if they found something edible there then it was already good enough.

They opened the lid a little more, but the top of it hit the wall with a loud metallic sound. Whumpee panicked, letting go of the lid, which fell to the ground, and pushing away from the trash can. They could hear footsteps close.

Tears filled Whumpee's eyes as the back door of the restaurant opened, a tall person standing there looking for the source of the noise. Their eyes soon found Whumpee trembling on the ground.

"I-I-I..." Whumpee stuttered. "I-I didn't want to-to cause any trouble. I d-didn't steal! I didn't steal anything, I swear!" Their voice raised at the ending, and their bit their lip.

"Steal?" The person looked from them to the trash can.

Whumpee's stomach growled again.

"Oh, damn." The person mumbled. They took a step forward, making Whumpee try to make themself as small as they could. But they didn't reach for Whumpee, instead, they just took the trash can's lid from the ground and put it back in place.

Whumpee felt their heart sink. It seemed they wouldn't be eating anything today.

"You must be so hungry." The person said. Whumpee choked a sob. "Come with me, let's find you something to eat."

Whumpee raised their head to them, trying to read their intentions. It was so hard, they were tired and hungry and this person was talking to them, offering them a hand and food and they weren't Whumper. Whumpee had never spent much time with anyone but Whumper, never learned to read anyone like they did Whumper. They had never spent so long away from Whumper.

Whumpee swallowed. The dog sniffed the air close to them, then started sniffing their leg. Its nose was cold. Its tail started... wagging? It barked once, making Whumpee cower again. But that was it. It didn't growl, didn't attack, didn't bite.

When Whumpee looked back at it, it was sitting, looking up at them with its big, dark eyes.

"H-hey..." Whumpee tried. The dog's tail started wagging again at the attention.

It stood up and ran away, coming back again carrying a folded blanket. It left it at Whumpee's feet and looked up at them.

"For me?" Whumpee asked, surprised. The dog kept looking at them. "Thank you."

Slowly, very slowly, and always watching the dog for its reaction, they crouched down and took the blanket.

Looking closer now, they could see the scar on the dog's face. Of course. Rescue dogs. A hand unconsciously touched the scar on Whumpee's own cheek.

The dog approached and licked Whumpee's free hand. They smiled, getting to courage to pet it.

They found themself unable to say anything as they were shoved into the small cell. There were three other people in there, each with an identifying bracelet with their date of capture. Two sat against the back wall, one holding their knees and hiding their face on them, the other looking up with blank, hopeless eyes. The third one curled up near a corner, eyes closed. From what Whumpee could see, they all wore collars.

Every Pet was supposed to always wear a collar in public, with identifying information on their owner, but in case they didn't there was always the identification number marked on their hip. It was an easily covered place, so Whumpee didn't feel like they needed to get rid of it yet. No one would see it, right?

Their number was still safely hidden behind their clothes - actual people clothes - but the pound workers had somehow managed to figure it out they were a Pet, even with those clothes, even if they hadn't worn a collar in months, even if their old wounds were mostly healed. They didn't have an ID to prove they were an actual person, and the moment they saw those men walking towards them they froze.

Whumpee wished they had stayed with Caretaker, but they had wanted so badly to prove they could already handle doing things on their own that they insisted on going alone to a different shop. They were so stupid. Of course they were not ready. It didn't matter that their body had healed, they would always be nothing but a Pet.

"Did you get that one's number?" One of the men asked. Whumpee held their knees, wanting nothing more than to disappear.

Caretaker wasn't their owner, not officially. If they got their number, they would find out Whumper still owned them. Whumpee couldn't go back to them. They couldn't handle it again.

"Are they really a Pet?" Another one asked. "Look at their clothes."

"It started shaking the moment it saw us. I can tell a Pet when I see one. Probably belongs to some delusional pervert who wants to pretend some real person is actually into them."

"Let's get its number then." The first man said, but made no move towards the cell, neither did his coworkers.

"Give it a couple of days and it will be begging to be taken back to Master." The one who suggested they belonged to a delusional pervert replied, the last word said in a mocking tone.

Whumpee remembered something Caretaker had told them back when they first went outside together. Those people were not the police. They could treat Pets however they wanted, but they would be in trouble if they did the same to actual people. They couldn't just go around lifting their shirts or undressing them as they pleased. If Whumpee acted confidently, like they had no reason to fear them, then they would leave them alone.

But Whumpee couldn't act confidently right now. They were still trembling, and the mere idea that they could end up in Whumper's hands again, instead of encouraging them to do everything they could to get out as soon as they could, only made them freeze in place.

You know where you belong, don't you, Pet? A voice in their mind that sounded like Whumper's said. You had fun pretending to be a person all these months, but now it's time for you to be put back in your place.

They sobbed.

The sound of the cell door opening brought them back from their thoughts. One of the men pulled one of the Pets - the one with hopeless eyes - out.

"It seems like your owner doesn't care much about you. You have been here 7 days and they didn't come looking for you."

The Pet's back was slammed on the ground as the man punched their face. Whumpee heard a sob from one of their cellmates.

"What a shame, this one is kinda pretty." Another man said, joining the first in towering over the Pet who didn't dare to try to get up the floor.

"Pitying the Pet? Why don't you take it in then?" The first man teased.

"And have to spend my hard-earned money to feed this thing?" The second man laughed. "When I can do this for free?" He added, kicking the Pet, getting a whine in response.

"Looks like it still didn't lose its voice."

Whumpee closed their eyes and covered their ears. This was a nightmare. They knew they couldn't help that other Pet, they couldn't even help themself, but it hurt. It hurt seeing someone being treated like that, it hurt knowing that soon it would be them in that position, because Whumper wasn't looking for them and Caretaker couldn't help them, and those men would be convinced they were a Pet and they would be sent back to Whumper, who would be so mad they had ran away once. Whumper would never let them out of the cage again, or they would keep them always tied, or they would break their legs and never let them heal or they would just cut them off...

Whumpee barely registered the cell door being opened again and the other Pet being thrown in, beaten and bloodied. They didn't raise their head when a different set of footsteps approached, but a familiar voice made them look up.

"Whumpee!"

"C-Caretaker..."

Fury radiated from Caretaker as they turned to the man who let them inside. "What is my cousin doing in a Pet cell?"

"Cousin?"

Caretaker took an ID from their pocket and almost shoved it at the man's face. "Cousin! Do they look like a Pet to you?"

The man stuttered. "T-they didn't say anything when we brought them here."

"Of course not, they are disabled, you dickhead!" They took another paper and shoved it at the man's face. "See? I had their papers while they went to the fucking restroom, and you beasts just went and put them in a cage?!"

The man read the paper, their face showing more dismay as they went.

"I should sue you all!" Caretaker exclaimed.

"Please, it was an honest mistake. We'll release..." He checked the ID. "Whumpee right now."

He opened the cell, and Caretaker helped Whumpee up, before holding them tightly. Then, they looked into their eyes and asked loudly, making sure the man was hearing.

"Did these fuckers dare to lay a finger on you?"

Whumpee flinched, not used to the harsh tone or the cursing coming from Caretaker. They shook their head.

Caretaker took the documents back and held Whumpee's hand as they left that awful place. Only when they were out did Whumpee let themself relax.

"I'm sorry." Caretaker said. "I should never have let this happen. You should never have been in this place."

"It was my fault," Whumpee said, taking a moment to appreciate how good it was to say those words without fear, without begging, without a long string of incoherent apologies. It was alright to make mistakes. "I should have stayed with you."

Caretaker took the ID back from their pocket. "This is yours. I should have gotten it for you sooner. It could have avoided this whole thing."

Whumpee looked at the document. It was fake, of course, only real people could have them. But it was a good falsification and it had been enough to get them out of the pound. Well, that and Caretaker's brilliant acting. Whumpee chuckled as they thought back to it, the absurdity of Caretaker being all demanding and rude.

Still, it was strange that that piece of laminated paper could make such a difference in their life.

Their parents were right: the younger fisher was not prepared to catch their first mer, they realized as they tried to pull the net and the net pulled back, making them lose balance and fall into the water.

Saltwater filled their lungs, burning inside. Looking down they caught a glimpse of their almost-catch, a beautiful silver mer with long hair, keeping a hold of their leg. The fisher struggled, trying to kick the mer or at least make it hard for it to keep pulling them. Just as they were about to pass out, they managed to get their head over the water, coughing and trying to take in as much air as they could.

The mer didn't stop pulling. The fisher held their breath and reached for the knife resting against his hip. This time they swam down, trying to have the mer in their arm's reach. Their eyes stung from the salt water, making it an almost blind attack. Their intention was to cut its arm off, but they would gladly accept any damage they could do if it helped them get free.

After some stabs and cuts, all the fisher could see was red. The arms holding them let go. The mer had seemingly gone unconscious.