Cat on Holidays

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Went back to CAMHS today. Saw Lolly, and told her everything.

So my homework for the week is to do something I enjoy every day.

If only school work were that easy.

Well, what do I have this holidays?

Right now, I’m doing sewing classes. As you imaginary readers know, I don’t know how to sew, and yet, I’m taking 1A/B Textiles Design and Technology.

I’m making a dress. It has green flowers all over it and hopefully I’ll be able to actually wear it.

…presuming I’d want to be seen in it once I’m finished.

Today was my second lesson. I’ve learnt and remembered a lot, and so far, I’ve sewn the…watchimacallit to the thingamabob. In Cat Madanese, I’ve sewn the top of the front to the bit where the shoulders are, and I’ve attached that to the back.

Yeah…I’m not going to survive this.

And guess who my incredibly supportive assistant is?

Flashback to this morning…

I was sewing the watchimacallit to the thingamabob, when he walked in front of the window I was facing when I worked. I wish to god I hadn’t looked up…

“I didn’t know you dressed in drag,” was my response.

He was wearing one of the wedding dresses which the teacher had put on display, to show us what you could do in sewing. “Here comes the bride…all fat and wide….” he sang.

I was grateful though. I hadn’t been having a good day, I was too busy worrying about MJ, so I needed a laugh.

Sometimes I wonder if I am a bad influence on my friends….yesterday, I started talking to MJ on Facebook, and he told me that he was getting away from his parents’ house, as they had banned him from going out with friends. Sound familiar nonexistent regulars?

By the way, no, I didn’t finish Cat’s Run Away. You know how it ended, I went home, nothing changed, except my friendship with Flash. End of story. I might tell the rest some day, but only if I’m very bored.

His case was a lot more understanding than mine though. They had banned him from his best friend, because they thought he was gay. Yes, they’re homophobic, and it sucks. Because his best friend, aka my ‘Grandma’, isn’t gay. But MJ is.

Yeah…not good.

Anyway, so that was my day. Now I’m doing something fun. Writing! Then I’ll do a drawing for Pancake’s birthday next week. Then I’ll do fun things for the rest of the holidays.

…Assuming I’m not wallowing in depression/Delirium.

Anyway, time for drawing.

Love Cat Madigan

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Cat’s Run Away: Part Five: Soap and Feral Cats

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Who likes my cartoon? No one? Well stuff you, nonexistent reader.

Sigh….here’s the next chapter.

_______________________________________

“Daniel!” I was screeching.

He was not responding, even when I rolled him over, away from the roads. The Delusion had vanished from sight, and there were barely any cars around. I was alone.

I grabbed him and tried shaking him awake. “Don’t leave me here!” I screamed at him. “Say something!” I collapsed on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. He couldn’t die, how can someone die if they aren’t real?

Then I heard him. Very faintly, he whispered one word: “Something.”

He wasn’t dead.

Daniel was still here.

With that thought in mind, I whacked him across the face.

“Ow! What-”

I scrambled up and kicked him in the side. “That’s for scaring the crap out of me.”

I kicked him again. WHACK! “That’s for disappearing off the face of the earth whenever you got remotely pissed at me.”

WHACK! “That’s for the suggestion that I should open my legs for a taxi drive earlier! And finally…” I kicked him again. “That’s because made me cry!” With that, I picked up my stuff and started walking again. “And you are dead lucky I had forgotten to wear shoes,” I told him.

He called after me. “When did I tell you to hook up with a taxi driver?”

It was on the train, when Daniel was grumbling about more walking, and saying that if we wanted to get there at some reasonable hour then we should grab a taxi. Then he began subtly bringing up the subject of prostitution…

Then I threatened to throw him off of the moving train.

And he shut up.

Quickly, I darted across the road. I managed to get to the soft smooth pavement in the middle when the cars on the the other side started coming through. I stayed where I was, figuring out my next move. I knew I had to walk along that road, but I didn’t know for how long. And after that, I wasn’t sure where the road to turn at was.

Eventually, the last of the cars went through. And I was still standing in the middle, thinking.

Then I heard someone cursing.

I looked to the other side, and there was a large man yelling at me to move.

He was drunk, and swearing, but I didn’t care. It was a human, who hopefully knew his way around.

I dashed over to the other side. “What are ya fucking doing?” he said.

“I’m lost,” I told him.

“You drunker than I am?”

“Nope, just lost.”

He frowned. “You from around here?”

“Nope. I’m looking for the shelter, around Tweedledee Street,” I said.

“The shelter? Oh fuck…” The drunk man shook his head. “Sorry about cursing at you, I probably scared the fuck out of you.”

“It’s fine, there’s been scarier people I’ve come across,” I said, thinking of the Delusion I encountered only minutes previously.

“Look, the place where you need to go is a long way up this way,” he said. “Now look, I know you don’t know me from a bar of soap, but are you a runaway?”

I grimaced. “Kind of.”

“Fuck…” cursed the drunk man. “Look, like I said, you don’t know me from a bar of soap, but I need to make sure you arrive safe. Now look I know you wouldn’t want a guide, especially not one who’s pissed as I am, but it would be a weight off my mind to know you arrived okay. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said. The next day, I would probably be eradicated from his memory, but I felt safer with an honest drunk man than by myself with my head.

Thus I made the acquaintance of Sam the Drunk Man.

“So what’s your name?” he asked as we walked along.

“Cat,” I said. Cat isn’t my real name, but tonight, I had become used to calling myself that. It was easier that way.

“And where did you come from Cat?”

“Wonderland,” I said.

“Get fucked!”

“Nope.”

“There’s no way…how the fuck did you get here?”

“I took the train. After I walked to the city,” I added.

“Get fucked!” he said again. Then he noticed my feet. “Without shoes?”

I nodded. He responded the same way. “That’s fucking mad,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I sort of am.”

“Fuck… Well I’ll walk with you, but just to let you know, I’m not going to rape you in the bushes or anything, I swear, I’m not that kind of guy,” said Sam. “I mean, you don’t know me from a bar of soap, but I’m not a rapist, believe me.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I can usually trust drunk people.”

He laughed. “I’m drunk, but I’m honest.”

We walked along for half an hour. Sam helped me try to make a call to Papa Willis, who wasn’t answering for some reason (grumblemumblecursedpotato…). He also called his wife and let her know he was escorting a kid to Tinoca, and not getting it on with a prostitute. The reason he was walking was because, well, he was drink first of all, and second of all, his wife refused to pick him up. She seemed okay with this story, and she sent me her love. Like I said, you can trust drunk people.

The door to Tinoca House was surrounded by a giant cage. I figured it was so whoever was inside could open the door and talk to people without getting attacked by angry parents. I rapped on the window, and a lady came out. They were expecting me, so they let me in. Waving goodbye to Sam the Drunk Man, I followed them in.

Even more questions were asked. Was I under the influence right now? Why did I run away? Did I have any friends I could stay with? What would make me go back home?

Then they explained to me how Tinoca House worked. While I stayed here, I would be paying rent. It was $16 a night, which was pretty good, when you think about it. This included beds, food, Internet, TV, games, etc. During the day, you had to leave the house to go to work or school or whatever, with the exception of weekends and public holidays. As it was Sunday tomorrow, I would be helping to clean the house with the other inmates.

So I was shown to my room, and I was shown where everything was. I was introduced to everyone else, who eyed me in uncomfortable silence. They allowed me to use the computers to let my friends know where I was. Upon entering the computer room, guess who I encountered?

Daniel was scowling at me. “I,” he announced, “am not happy.”

Cat’s Run Away: Part Five: Soap and Feral Cats

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Who likes my cartoon? No one? Well stuff you, nonexistent reader.

Sigh….here’s the next chapter.

_______________________________________

“Daniel!” I was screeching.

He was not responding, even when I rolled him over, away from the roads. The Delusion had vanished from sight, and there were barely any cars around. I was alone.

I grabbed him and tried shaking him awake. “Don’t leave me here!” I screamed at him. “Say something!” I collapsed on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. He couldn’t die, how can someone die if they aren’t real?

Then I heard him. Very faintly, he whispered one word: “Something.”

He wasn’t dead.

Daniel was still here.

With that thought in mind, I whacked him across the face.

“Ow! What-”

I scrambled up and kicked him in the side. “That’s for scaring the crap out of me.”

I kicked him again. WHACK! “That’s for disappearing off the face of the earth whenever you got remotely pissed at me.”

WHACK! “That’s for the suggestion that I should open my legs for a taxi drive earlier! And finally…” I kicked him again. “That’s because made me cry!” With that, I picked up my stuff and started walking again. “And you are dead lucky I had forgotten to wear shoes,” I told him.

He called after me. “When did I tell you to hook up with a taxi driver?”

It was on the train, when Daniel was grumbling about more walking, and saying that if we wanted to get there at some reasonable hour then we should grab a taxi. Then he began subtly bringing up the subject of prostitution…

Then I threatened to throw him off of the moving train.

And he shut up.

Quickly, I darted across the road. I managed to get to the soft smooth pavement in the middle when the cars on the the other side started coming through. I stayed where I was, figuring out my next move. I knew I had to walk along that road, but I didn’t know for how long. And after that, I wasn’t sure where the road to turn at was.

Eventually, the last of the cars went through. And I was still standing in the middle, thinking.

Then I heard someone cursing.

I looked to the other side, and there was a large man yelling at me to move.

He was drunk, and swearing, but I didn’t care. It was a human, who hopefully knew his way around.

I dashed over to the other side. “What are ya fucking doing?” he said.

“I’m lost,” I told him.

“You drunker than I am?”

“Nope, just lost.”

He frowned. “You from around here?”

“Nope. I’m looking for the shelter, around Tweedledee Street,” I said.

“The shelter? Oh fuck…” The drunk man shook his head. “Sorry about cursing at you, I probably scared the fuck out of you.”

“It’s fine, there’s been scarier people I’ve come across,” I said, thinking of the Delusion I encountered only minutes previously.

“Look, the place where you need to go is a long way up this way,” he said. “Now look, I know you don’t know me from a bar of soap, but are you a runaway?”

I grimaced. “Kind of.”

“Fuck…” cursed the drunk man. “Look, like I said, you don’t know me from a bar of soap, but I need to make sure you arrive safe. Now look I know you wouldn’t want a guide, especially not one who’s pissed as I am, but it would be a weight off my mind to know you arrived okay. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said. The next day, I would probably be eradicated from his memory, but I felt safer with an honest drunk man than by myself with my head.

Thus I made the acquaintance of Sam the Drunk Man.

“So what’s your name?” he asked as we walked along.

“Cat,” I said. Cat isn’t my real name, but tonight, I had become used to calling myself that. It was easier that way.

“And where did you come from Cat?”

“Wonderland,” I said.

“Get fucked!”

“Nope.”

“There’s no way…how the fuck did you get here?”

“I took the train. After I walked to the city,” I added.

“Get fucked!” he said again. Then he noticed my feet. “Without shoes?”

I nodded. He responded the same way. “That’s fucking mad,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I sort of am.”

“Fuck… Well I’ll walk with you, but just to let you know, I’m not going to rape you in the bushes or anything, I swear, I’m not that kind of guy,” said Sam. “I mean, you don’t know me from a bar of soap, but I’m not a rapist, believe me.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I can usually trust drunk people.”

He laughed. “I’m drunk, but I’m honest.”

We walked along for half an hour. Sam helped me try to make a call to Papa Willis, who wasn’t answering for some reason (grumblemumblecursedpotato…). He also called his wife and let her know he was escorting a kid to Tinoca, and not getting it on with a prostitute. The reason he was walking was because, well, he was drink first of all, and second of all, his wife refused to pick him up. She seemed okay with this story, and she sent me her love. Like I said, you can trust drunk people.

The door to Tinoca House was surrounded by a giant cage. I figured it was so whoever was inside could open the door and talk to people without getting attacked by angry parents. I rapped on the window, and a lady came out. They were expecting me, so they let me in. Waving goodbye to Sam the Drunk Man, I followed them in.

Even more questions were asked. Was I under the influence right now? Why did I run away? Did I have any friends I could stay with? What would make me go back home?

Then they explained to me how Tinoca House worked. While I stayed here, I would be paying rent. It was $16 a night, which was pretty good, when you think about it. This included beds, food, Internet, TV, games, etc. During the day, you had to leave the house to go to work or school or whatever, with the exception of weekends and public holidays. As it was Sunday tomorrow, I would be helping to clean the house with the other inmates.

So I was shown to my room, and I was shown where everything was. I was introduced to everyone else, who eyed me in uncomfortable silence. They allowed me to use the computers to let my friends know where I was. Upon entering the computer room, guess who I encountered?

Daniel was scowling at me. “I,” he announced, “am not happy.”

Cat’s Run Away, Part Four: Save Me

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His name was Tarrant, and the next day, he was heading to Indonesia for a trip. He was already late for his own going away party, as he had to pay a fine, but for some reason I couldn’t comprehend, he offered to drive me to the Underground.

“How blistered are your feet?” he asked.

I hadn’t had a look at my feet in a while, and now that I was sitting in his car, I could do so. Tarrant’s face screwed up at the sight. “How long were you walking barefoot again?” he winced.

To be honest, I didn’t think they looked too bad. Like, they weren’t mutilated and disgusting, merely filthy and tough from walking on rocky pavement for hours. The skin was almost black on my feet, but water would get that off.

Tarrant dropped something on my lap. “Buy some shoes, I’m begging you,” he said. “Before your feet are permanently ruined.”

“My feet were never lovely in the first place,” I told him. “Besides, the shops would be closed now, I wouldn’t be able to buy anything.”

“Well take it for my state of mind, alright?” said Tarrant. “Think of it this way; I would be relieved by the thought that you are at least wearing shoes on your way there, so take the money, and let me have that illusion.”

I hesitated, before finally accepting the money. “You see? I feel better already,” Tarrant said. “I can live with myself knowing I helped you.”

“I had never thought I’d see the day that someone would beg me to buy shoes,” I told him. “Normally it’s the other way around.”

He grinned. “Buy ugg boots,” he said.

I made a face. “Again, never thought I’d hear someone say that.”

Tarrant chuckled. “When you think about it, my actions are selfish, because I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t feel bad about not helping you, see. So its selfish of me that I’m helping you.”

“Well nothing is truly altruistic,” I pointed out. “Human beings are selfish by nature.”

“Silly human beings…” he rolled his eyes.

I giggled at that. “That’s usually what I say.”

“We think alike,” Tarrant said. “…that may not be a good thing.”

I rolled my eyes. Tarrant was nice, for a stranger. He was weird, and he thought about random things. He was practically my twin. :p

Tarrant left me at the Underground, after giving me his Facebook details so I could let him know that I was alive. I bought my ticket and got on the train, and I would’ve fallen asleep had Daniel not been there.

I managed to scramble off the train, with all my belongings in hand, and Daniel following me.

Oh, and I forgot to do a recount of thus far. Still barefoot, still homeless, still carrying iPad and books, still have five bucks, plus an additional forty from Tarrant.

“Why on Earth would he give you that much money?” Daniel asked. “Are you sure those notes aren’t laced with something?”

I was too busy braving the rocky ground to answer. “Ow, ow, ow, ow.”

“Never mind…” Daniel turned to me. “Where are we meant to go?”

Now, upon being told how I needed to catch the Chesire Train, the whole police station gasped. The Cheshire station, I was informed, was an incredibly seedy place. Not fun seedy, like my Uncle Slenderman, but bad seedy, as in Creepy Stalker Guy Seedy.

So my thoughts were wonderful after hearing this.

We walked for ten minutes, and Daniel and I were walking along the highway, looking for directions.

Then someone grabbed my shoulder.

I cried out and span around to see someone I knew very well.

He was a Delusion.

He was not Daniel.

And I hated him.

“What do you want?” I snarled.

Then I crumpled to the ground, hissing. My head was burning, and I was vaguely aware of him standing above me.

“Don’t you dare!” I heard Daniel screech. Suddenly, the pain vanished, and I was lying on the ground, disoriented.

When my sight came to, I took in the scene in front of me. Daniel was standing there, panting and in agony. “What happened?” I asked.

He grimaced. “It’s fine,” he murmured. “Perfectly fine.”

And then he fell to the ground.

Cat’s Run Away, Part Three: Cats and Rabbits

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It was 7 in the evening. At least I think it was.

I was still lacking shoes.

I still had the $5 Frankie gave me.

I was still carrying my iPad and two books.

And Daniel and I had seen the first policemen all evening.

“Fudge fudge fudge fudge, expletive, curseword, son of a biscuit-” I grumbled, as I hobbled after the policemen on their bikes.

Fortunately, they stopped at the traffic lights, so I only had to walk to catch up. Then I asked them how to get to the Mallymkum Police Station.

Of course, it happened to be the one night of the year where there were drunks and winos galore! With no one to spare, they could only direct me along Salazen Street, though their gazes lingered on my bare feet for a moment.

Fortunately, a guy who introduced himself as Rabbit (of course he didn’t, the world’s not completely mad) overheard this, and said he’d take me along to the police station. So we walked along, and we joked about, and Daniel was giving me foul looks.

Of course, the subject of why I was lacking shoes came up.

“So were you drunk or something?” Rabbit asked.

“Nope.” I thought for a moment before deciding to tell Rabbit. “Ran away. Didn’t have time to pick up shoes.”

“Ah. Bad boyfriend?” Rabbit asked. Daniel responded with the most poisonous look he could give him.

What? I mouthed to my delusion. He just turned his head away and ignored me. He’s even more sulky than me… “Nah, parents,” I told Rabbit.

“You still live with your parents?” Rabbit asked incredulously.

“Well, I did,” I responded. “I’m not 18 yet.”

“Get out!” he said.

I then realised the reason for Daniel’s foul mood. “Well how old did you think I was?”

“Old enough for me to buy you a drink.”

“I don’t drink anyways.”

“Too bad,” said Rabbit. “Well I’d better leave you now.”

“Oh?”

“Look.” He pointed at the building in front of us.

I looked, and I saw the police station. “Thanks so much,” I breathed. After ages spent walking around the city barefoot, I could finally relax a little.

“It’s o’right,” said Rabbit. “Do me a favour though?”

“Hmm?”

“There’s a reason you left,” Rabbit said. “I’m…I’m not usually the one to pry, does that reason have to do with…bruises?”

“Not exactly,” I said slowly. He had taken me this far, but I wasn’t too sure how much I could trust Rabbit. And the last thing I wanted to do was burst into tears in front of him.

Rabbit gave me a wry smile. “Suit yourself. Well then, see you around, Cat. Well, actually, I hope I don’t see you around because the city’s a bad place at night…but take care of yourself, o’right?”

I grinned back at Rabbit, and started up the stairs. As I reached the door, he called back up. “You’re not alone, you know.”

I quickly scanned around for Daniel. When I couldn’t see him, I turned back and told Rabbit, “I know”, even though I did not believe it one bit.

At the police station, the only other person there was a young man, waiting on a chair. “Where’s the police?” I asked warily.

“Just stand in front of the counter, they’ll turn up.”

He was right. About thirty seconds after, a police officer turned up, and asked if I needed help.

It was harder than it should’ve been, talking. How many times had I explained to people what had happened, why I was by myself, barefoot, penniless.

As soon as I opened my mouth, she said “Runaway?”

“How did…”

She indicated my bare feet.

“Ah. Right. Yeah.” I exhaled. “I need somewhere to go.”

She immediately gave me the phone for the crisis centre…who immediately put me on hold.

In the five minutes I was on hold, I listened to the other guy tell me about how he had to go down to the police station to pay a fine, and how he’d been waiting there for 2 hours, and was now late to his own going away party.

I was telling him that I was probably going to do the same when the phone finally picked up.

I could answer the questions off the top of my head. Are you pregnant? No. Are you suicidal? Borderline. Is there anyway you can go back home? No. Do you have anywhere to stay? No. Have you any money? No.

Was it alright if this call was transferred to Tinoca House, where they could give me shelter for a few nights? Yes please.

Good.

And then they put me on hold for ten minutes.

In that time, another woman entered the station. One who had been attacked by a bar owner. Overhearing my problem, she made it very very clear that she did not approve of my decision. Even when Tinoca picked up, she wouldn’t stop talking.

I went through the questions again. Pregnant, no. Under the influence, no. Anywhere to go, no. After the endless questions, I was told that they could accommodate me.

There was just one problem.

This Tinoca house was about half an hours drive away from Mallymkum. I had zero money for a taxi, and because it was grand final night, there were no police cars available to take me.

I looked at the clock. It was 9:45. Already it was dark.

I felt sorry for the police officer who told me that I had some more walking to do. He uncomfortably told me that there was a train I could take, but there wasn’t anything else he could do.

It was then that the guy, who had finally paid his fine, offered to take me to the train station, and spare my poor blistered feet. I accepted.

Off we went again…

Cat’s Run Away, Part Two: Emotionless

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Last time, on Cat’s Run Away.

A culmination of events, beginning with the homeless man on the bus, and ending in my mother’s plan to put me in chains, resulted in me running away.

So one hour into my runaway plan, this is a general overview of my situation.

To prevent my mother and brother getting their paws on my iPad, I had taken it with me, along with two books I had been reading at the time.

I had been locked out of the house at the time, so I was unable to get a jacket, or anything warm.

The cat brush, which I had used to attack my brother with, was now in my pocket. For some reason I cannot contribute to anything but absentmindedness and potential insanity.

I had $0 in my possession. Meaning the only way to get to the city was on foot.

Speaking of which…

As I said before, the only things I had with me were the ones I had taken with me in the morning. And…I sort of didn’t put on shoes this morning.

So I was kind of barefoot.

I am so intelligent. And Daniel had the grace to point it out to me.

“Why, the HELL didn’t you put on shoes, you DENSE Mother-”

WHACK!

A lot of people gave me weird looks from that. After all, I just punched what was probably thin air. But I felt better. It’s all the satisfaction of punching a normal person, without the complications of a sore hand.

Either way, he shut up afterwards. Well, until I came to the park.

“Now what are you going to do?” he asked me. “It’s either prickles or gravel. Take your pick Cat.”

“Wait,” I stopped him. “Where are we, first off?”

Daniel stopped walking. “That Cat,” he said slowly. “Is a very good question.”

“Thanks for the compliment, now where are we?

“…I wouldn’t know.”

“GODDAMMIT!”

The following consisted of a long course of swear words. Ones which are too creative for little eyes to see. Yes I’m referring to you Batman. You are classified as ‘little’.

But back to the story! 127 creative curse words later…

“Why didn’t we just follow the bus route that you take to school?” Daniel asked.

“Because if my parents drove down that way, they’d see me walking,” I said. “The plan was to walk a street down from the bus route. The same basic path to the city, just… sans recognisable landmarks.”

“Ask someone where Wonderland road is,” he suggested.

(And yes, I’m changing the streets and names of cities and stuff. Because I need to be more creative and discreet with the places I mention. Plus I love Alice in Wonderland, so this is where I’m going to live.)

So I went up to a car and asked the person in it.

And things turned out better than expected.

The guy, who I’m going to call Frankie, worked with runaways, and offered to drop me off in the city. Of course, he only did that after I told him I was going to stay with friends.

Truth was, I had no idea what I was going to do.

But anyway, Frankie dropped me off in the city. And gave me $5 so I could catch the train to wherever I needed to go.

So I got to Gumboot Station. And I trekked to where I could use the WiFi.

I managed to get in contact with members of my ‘family’, and let them know where I was. Sadly, I wasn’t able to stay with any of them.

So, I prepared myself for the possibility that I was going to sleep on the street.

Surprisingly, this did not terrify me. Were my emotions really that messed up?

I was almost shocked to feel that the normal fears that people talked about when they ran away didn’t come to me. Rape? I didn’t care. Murder? Go ahead. Torture? Meh. None of these potential scenarios made me feel anything.

But I soon discovered that I could still feel other things.

For example, when I came across a gentleman who directed me to the police station, I was suddenly filled with hope. And I realised that I really didn’t want to sleep on the street. But I still had no intention of going back home.

Thus began my journey to the police station.

About an hour later…

“Caaaaat.”

“What.”

“The Snug Street police station’s closed…”

“I realised that, Daniel.”

“Now whaaaaat?”

WHACK!

It was about half an hour before Daniel showed up again. In that time, I met up with a taxi driver, who decided to drive me to the police station. Eventually I realised he thought I had been raped, and I needed to report it. I must’ve looked worse than I thought… He was visibly relieved when I told him, and he gave me his card in case I needed him again.

He dropped me off about a street from the police station, and drove off. It was then that I realised something.

This was the police station on Snug Street.

Fuuuuuuuuuuudge.

So I focused on finding a landmark, like a hotel or somewhere. A place I could get directions.

Then someone showed up. Not Daniel, but something worse.

Creepy Stalker Guy.

A man who was walking far too close to me, and kept calling me ‘Baby’.

Ohhhhh shiiiiiiiiiiii-

I walked along about a hundred metres, Creepy Stalker Guy close on my heels. As I sped up my pace, I just kept thinking the same thing over and over again.

Shit. I’m going to be raped. Then I’ll be murdered. And then my friends will kill me. Somehow.

Then I saw the light of an open building. And my pessimistic monologue was replaced with one word.

RUUUUUUUUUUUUN!

I dived inside the building, not caring what the Creepy Stalker Guy thought. I hid in a corner, surrounded by people, until I found it safe to come out.

And I ran into Daniel.

And I just burst into tears.

Daniel just stood there and put his arms around me. He didn’t need to say anything.

Then everyone came and surrounded me, asking for my permission to help me.

No one could drive me to the police station. It was late, and all the winos were out on Snug Street. But there was another police station at Mallymkum Road. One that was certainly open.

I was then escorted through the maze of winos to a safer place. I saw no sign of Creepy Stalker Man, and when I reached the somewhat civilised city life, I let myself believe I wasn’t going to see him again.

My escort left, and Daniel and I were left to navigate the rest of the city by ourselves.

Cat’s Run Away, Part One: I am Stupid…

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Beforehand, you must understand two things:

First: I am mad. Actually, make that MAD. And I always will be.

Second: What I did even surprised me. I have never done anything like this before. Hence why I am freaking out.

Alright, I’m only freaking out a tiny bit. Excuse me for being emotionally sterile…

So I ran away from home.

Here’s what happened. In chronological order. And in several instalments.

I suppose it must’ve started the day before. Well, it was that that sort of inspired the idea. I suppose that the events that followed were sort of catalysts to the inevitable.

That day I got on the bus to go to school, and I was heading toward the back of the bus when I noticed what I thought was a corpse. It wasn’t moving, it smelt, and I was nearly terrified. Then I heard the corpse snore, and I realised, to my relief, that the corpse was in fact alive.

Then the transport officer came up to the living corpse, and told him to get off the bus. After waking him up, of course. The corpse refused. It was then that the transport officer threatened to call security who would forcibly take him off the bus.

I swear, the second the officer said ‘forcibly’, about ten girls took out their phones, ready to capture a fight on the bus.

And I was one of them.

Well, that’s not completely true. I was going to switch to camera mode on my iPad. Anyway, officer got off, bus went off, phones went away.

I was on the bus for about ten more minutes after that. And I had been sitting across from the homeless corpse. So I got to have a closer look at him.

He was young. Blonde hair, and I saw he had hazel eyes when he opened them.

He looked like he was in his teens, and he was rugged up in a rain jacket and baggy waterproof trackies.

And he was curled up on the back seat. Even when the driver went over a speed bump, he wasn’t stirred.

I also managed to figure a few things. Had this been a serial snoozer, he wouldn’t have been able to get on the bus in the first place.

Then I thought of all the people I had seen on the street, impervious to the wind, with their ragged, hardened skin. And yet they do not shelter in the CATs. This guy had soft looking skin, clean shaved. And he was sleeping on the bus.

I don’t think he has been homeless for very long.

Should’ve I said anything? Maybe. Looking back, I wanted to talk to him, ask him about himself. But I didn’t take that opportunity, to find out what it was like to be away from everyone you would’ve once held dear. I don’t know why he was there, because I didn’t ask. But if he were a runaway, then I missed my opportunity to know what it was like to do that.

Now we’re going to jump forward to the next day. BOOOOOOOING.

So I was cleaning my room. My mother came into the room.

Some people may already understand where this story is heading, but for others, I’ll fill it in anyway.

She yelled. A lot of things she yelled. I managed to pick up “Ungrateful”, “Never amount to anything” and “Respect”, or lack thereof.

So I went out of the house to what for now, I call the cubby house. Because it’s a house, but only the rooms have been built. So it’s essentially a cubby house.

I had my iPad and two books with me. So I read, and I danced, and I forgot my problems. Not crappy school coordinated dancing, but mad dancing that you do at raves, only I was by myself.

After two hours of singing a song from The Nightmare Before Christmas, (In this town, don’t we love it now! Everybody’s waiting for the next SURPRISE!) I went back. And my mother had locked me outside.

After about ten minutes, my brother came out. He had a smile bigger than a Cheshire cat on crack. And he told me gleefully that my mother had grounded me, and wanted me to give him my iPad, Facebook, and any sort of freedom I had. Because I had a much needed time out.

I told her as much when she came outside. Not that she heard any of it. I doubt she takes in anything that I say these days. But after she had left, I had some time to think.

And as all you imaginary readers know, thinking is a terrible thing.

I couldn’t stay with my mother right then. But there was no room with my friends, and I had no neighbours to stay with.

I was contemplating giving up, and pleading mother for the right to reenter, when all of a sudden, who should appear but my smug faced, shit eating brother?

He wanted my iPad.

He tackled me.

And I attacked him with a cat brush. A WIRE cat brush, which hurts when you slap people with it.

And then I ran.

Twenty minutes later, I kept repeating seven words to myself.

What. The. Bloody. Hell. Was. I. Thinking.

And guess who had the decency to turn up then?

“Fuck off Daniel,” I mumbled.

“I thought you could use the company.” He fell in pace beside me.

“Well, no. You were wrong.”

There was silence.

Äny idea where you’re going?” he asked me.

“City,” I said. “Then…I’m not sure.”

“Get to the police. They’ll tell you where you can go.”

“They’ve got better things to do that help a runaway,” I pointed out.

“Maybe. But this is your ass we are talking about. I wouldn’t like it if anything happened to it.”

I ignored Daniel. We walked another two hundred metres before he finally spoke again. And after he spoke, a different seven worded sentence consumed my brain.

Well, when I say Daniel spoke, he was actually singing.

Out of the blue, he started. And I will walk five hundred miles…”

“Fuck off.”

This was going to be a long night…