Cat astray

George had come home in a bad mood. Normally that meant that something bad was going to happen. The guy couldn't handle his own emotions, and while that was pitiful, Rosemarie had anything else than that for her own brother. One snarky remark later, a bit of "c'mon George, she didn't mean it that way," from her mother and Rosemarie was sitting in her room with a bloody nose, pressing a lump of scrunched up toilet paper to it. She had gotten used to it by now. How this whole show worked. Her brother would, after hurting her, slam with the doors, grab the car keys and disappear out in to the night, gods knowing what. A knock on the door signaled that phase two was about to commence; Her mother trying to convince her that her brother isn't too bad, that he just has a lot to struggle with, pleading with Rosemarie to forgive his mistakes. Rosemarie always said she forgave, but deep in her heart she knew it was a lie. The hate she felt towards her brother was growing every day, but Justiae practiced balance. Maybe that was why George was active while she was passive? Cruel humor if you asked her.
Getting up from her bed, she grabbed her jacket that was hanging over her desk chair, pulling it on, mumbling something about going out two. Only, she didn't have the luxury of a car, but she did have an umbrella. Her mother grabbed her by the arm, stopping her as she passed her in the doorway, Rosemarie's head turning to look at her mother with a neutral expression. It seemed her mother regretted her decision, letting go of the young clergy. Rosemarie checked her pockets, yeah, she still had some cat treats in it. Maybe she would be lucky to feed some poor wet cats at this time of night. She had stopped carrying wet cat food a few months back when one of her classmates pushed her down to the ground. The packet exploding as she had landed on it, making the rest of the students around her laugh, calling her crazy cat lady. Since then it was easier to carry dry pellets. Sure, it smelled more, but it was much easier to clean up.
With the umbrella in hand, she moved down the street, the neighborhood was big and filled with houses, but she was determined to walk further than that. At school was where she met most of the cats as they seemed to flock to the old waste bins behind the gym. A few cats noticed her from far away, of course, meowing and following her heel as she pulled up in a light smile. Her nose was still sore, a bit of blood having hardened against her face that was slowly turning blue from the impact it had had with the door. Reaching one of the big trees that could shield her from the rain above, she sat down, digging her hand in to her pocket, clicking her tongue as she shook the bag. How many times had her mother not scolded her for feeding the strays? One too many, but she took a scolding from her mom over a back hand from her brother.
"I'm sorry - some of the pellets got a little wet," she spoke to them rather sweetly, dumping a small handful out around her. Even the most shy of cats usually found out that she didn't try and pick them up or pet them when they got close. She just wanted their company, as sad as that sounded, because she found comfort in the fact that they would listen. Or maybe not listen, but they would stick around her and not push her away like her peers. Pulling her knees up under her chin she wrapped her arms around her legs, looking as the usual brave kitties got to the pellets first. She had named most of the cats, not that she claimed it to be their names, but that way she could differentiate them in her mind.

Rosemarie just looked at the cats eating. Some days she wondered if she would've been better off being a stray cat, though it was never something she shared with anyone. A newcomer joined them on this evening however, her eyes looking at the big Maine coon that made the other cats aware of their smaller size. It wasn't a cat she had seen before, but it was rather pretty if you looked past how drenched it probably was. Digging in to her pocket she took another handful of pellet, dispersing them to the cats, letting them have some more.
A cat she had seen many times before moved closer, nudging itself up against her leg and she pulled up in a small smile. Her hand reaching down, not to pet it, but to let it sniff her. Her mother hated cats. She could still remember all the times she had pleaded and begged to have one of her own, but neither of her parents had seemingly supported that idea. Rosemarie just found the company of animals easier. They didn't tease her or call her strange names. They never pushed her or stole her stuff. "I wish I could get you some better treats, but my brother found my stash and told my mom who threw it out," she spoke to the small gathering. Her voice soft and a little timid. She knew she would have time to grow in to her own person at some point, but right now she was just a broken girl with no real friends.
"Mason, that boy in class, pulled at my hair today ... He ripped out a big lump of it too," her hand moving up to the small bald spot that had resulted from the incident. Breathing out in a small sigh, she rubbed her finger under her nose, probably smearing the dry blood all over her upper lip, but she never really cared what she looked like. It was like no matter what, someone would find a way to bully her anyways. "I didn't tell the teachers ... Because Mason is a part of this boy group that likes to assert their dominance by beating up those who tell on them."

As the cats started to hiss at one another she frowned, "hey, there's no need for that," she said, clearly upset that these cats who had so little still managed to fight. Her eyes went to the Maine coon, digging in to her pocket she threw a handful to it, knowing the pellets would get wet, but it seemed to shy to get too close. "There, see, I got plenty for you all," she said, sending the white and grey cat a smile, the cat by her side nudging against her leg, its wet fur sticking to her pants, but she didn't mind. In fact she changed position, knowing that this cat liked to lay on her legs and get warmed.
The cat followed suit, crawling up to lay on her lap, and while it was not much for petting, it didn't mind that she raked her fingers through its wet fur. At least it helped with getting out all the knots. "I have to go home soon," she muttered, clearly upset by the fact as she looked down to the cat in her lap, frowning as she was trying to hold herself back from crying. Home was the worst place to be at. Sure, her brother would be gone for the rest of the night, but the spite that she would feel from her mother would be bad.
As the pellets on the ground was slowly disappearing, some of the cats that had gotten a full belly retreated to their usual hiding spots, leaving the girl alone. Even the fat brown one seemed to have gotten its fill. Rosemarie was left behind, like she so usually was, but with the cats it was easier to understand. They were simple beings, they didn't hate her or avoid her, but they knew she would come back again with another load of food. Drying her hand off in her jacket, the cat on her lap stretched before getting off of her, having some heat that would stick even in the rain. And while they were leaving, a few of the more scrawnier cats stuck behind, hoping that the human would give out some more food to fill them for the night. She had a little, dumping the rest of the bag before folding the plastic neatly, putting it back in her pocket. "Eat up ... You're probably going to have a rougher night than me," she told them.

The newcomer started to meow at her, and her lips pulled up in a soft smile, nodding at it to let it know she had heard it. It was quite the pretty cat, one that she could imagine living in a lavish mansion with wet food served all day 'round. But instead it was here, out in the cold and seemingly trying to adjust. Once more of the scrawnier cats started to leave she just looked at the Maine coon. She was never the first to leave. No, the cats would leave first and then she would take as long as she needed to get back up on her feet. "I can see that you're new here ... I hope you're doing alright," her voice so filled with compassion and care. She truly felt like these cats deserved more than just the dry food she could give them, but she was a student, and stealing a bit of money from her mother's wallet was fine, it just couldn't be too much. "I'm Rosemarie," she introduced herself, clearly not as proud to admit who she was, but at least she stood her ground. "I wish I could ask for your name, but I don't speak cat," a smile pulling up on her lips. It wasn't often she got to speak with someone, so she didn't even mind that this someone was a cat that couldn't talk back. "Would you like me to give you a nickname?" Sometimes it was visual cues, other times vocal, but she felt like she understood cats pretty much at this point. "How about Tiger? You have pretty grey and white stripes like a white tiger."

The strays left and Gaspar watched them in the corner of his eye, but he remained. Just watching her, eating the last remaining pellets that laid around him. The person spoke and he moved out of the rain to sit under the cover of the large container bin. She seemed rather friendly, but so did anyone when he first met them. Come here kitty kitty, come here and let me touch you. Those he didnt like. But this one wasnt trying to trick him into coming closer. Her question was a little odd because he already had a name. But without a collar, it was hard to figure out what his name even was, that did make sense when he thought of it. As long as it wasnt some lame generic name, he liked the name he had gotten the first time. He blinked his eyes at her to let her know that it was alright, feeling a little better with some food and the cover above. Though as she called him Tiger, he didnt really react. A tiger? He had never seen one, so it wasnt like he know what she was even talking about.

The cat seemed to listen to her, though she was unsure if it understood her. Of course most cats around here knew a word or two, but they mostly reacted when she rattled with the bag of pellets. This cat seemed to actually listen, or maybe she had just been hit too hard in the head tonight. "I guess you wouldn't know what that is, huh," she muttered, looking down, fiddling a bit with her fingers. It seemed that even when she was alone she was awkward and not quite settled in to herself. "You look very pretty though ... But you also look like you have a family to return to ... Did you lose your collar?" she wasn't sure why she kept talking to the cat. Maybe because it was the only thing keeping her from going home. She didn't want to go home, in fact if she had been dressed more warmly she would've tried sleeping here. But it was cold and wet, and she wasn't so lucky as to have a fur coat like a cat.
She moved up to her feet. "It was nice meeting you," she said, her lips pulling up in a slight smile, digging her hands in to her pocket. There were a few stray pellets inside that she dug out, placing where she had been sitting where it would be dry. "I'll try and bring you something better for tomorrow," she muttered, taking a few steps away, dragging out the fact that she was going home.

Every day that week she came back, just as she had told the striped cat that night. Some days it were pellets, other days it was deli-meats that were close to expiring, but she always had something for all of them. Her bruises changed every day, some days there were more, some days you could see how some of them were starting to heal. She never spoke about her family, but she spoke about school. What grades she was getting, how well she had done on a test, how one of the boys from her year had tried to flush her backpack out in a toilet and her mother had had to buy new stationary.
That evening it was dry, she had gotten a hold of something a bit more nice for the kitties; a few tins of wet cat food. It was popular, some of the cats starting to hiss at one another, but every time they did, she removed the food, not giving it back until they were behaving again. Sitting under the tree, she was scribbling a few notes down. Her hair was a bit of a mess today, and her forearms were scraped and bruised. She had tried patching herself up with a lot of band-aids, but she had given up halfway.

Rosemarie was chewing on the end of her pencil, feeling a bit of wood break and yet she didn't find the taste disgusting. She was deep in her thoughts as the cat approached her. It wasn't until she felt the warmth against her thigh that she looked up, turning her head to see none other than the Maine coon sit there by her side. This was the first time she felt her heart swell for the four-legged creature, smiling as she didn't try and reach out to touch him. She had found out it was a him because most of the males were after him from time to time. He was a sweet boy, that was for sure, but he took time to find trust in her. Not that she minded, she never expected anything in return for what she did for these creatures. "You have dried blood in your fur," she commented, but was not looking to get scratched so she just sat still, looking at the red spot on the cat's side. "Does it hurt? Is that why you sit here so close to me?" she asked, looking at the white and grey striped cat with a bit of confusion on her face.

He didn't really seem too bothered, but as he laid down next to her she decided to investigate his dirty fur. She was rather careful, as she could see a few spots on his fur that had matted together. It must've been heavy for him. Her fingers moved carefully, feeling how the skin beneath was healing, and he wasn't actively bleeding. That was good. "I'm sorry, you just had me worried," she explained, removing her fingers from his fur, placing her hand in her lap. It was nice that he was cuddling up to her. It made her feel good. Like she wasn't alone.
"I'm really dreading the weekend ... The class is having a party ... I'm not invited of course, but I know where it's being held," she muttered, just to get some of her frustrations out. She wanted to be apart of that group. And yet they kept keeping her from them. "I wish they had invited me," even if it had been just to harm her more, maybe make her cry off her makeup, though it would probably be an improvement. Shaking her head, she tucked her knees up under her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs, but not disturbing the resting cat by her side. "I know I'm not who they want me to be, but every time I try and become what I think it is they want me to, it's like things get worse."

As he rolled over she chuckled, picking at a hole in her pants, probably making it bigger and the nagging words from her mother worse. Either way, she didn't care, not right now. This cat was different. Or maybe she was just hoping it was, because that would mean she was special in a way, right? "I guess you're not the most popular either, huh?" she said, looking to the other strays, one of them harking as it had tried to bite through the tin but finding it hurting to chew on. "I have to go soon," she muttered, looking down again. Her mother had found some cat treats in her jacket yesterday, and it had resulted in a proper scolding. Not only that. Her father had been told of the situation. Breathing out in a heavy sigh she rubbed her eyes, the frustration clear as day, but she was trying her best to not think about it. "I wish I could just stay here." She didn't have a good home life, nor was school any sort of refuge. Maybe she was around these cats because she too felt like a stray.

She had decided to get up, but before her body could follow the will of her mind, the big cat crawled up on her lap. The soft purrs making her eyes water a little. Of course she didn't know that it was doing this out of selfish reasons, but in her mind a cat couldn't have a malicious thought even if it seemed like it. This was the moments that made her go on. The way the cat nudged at her hand made her move it over, scratching the top of its head and its soft cheeks. Her eyes were sad, and yet happy at the same time. It was clear she was already finding comfort in this big cat. "Maybe I wish I could take you with me," she changed her last statement. Maybe a pet would brighten up her day, but she also knew how relentless of a family she came from. If her mother wouldn't outright scold her for bringing home a stray, then her brother would do anything in his power to drive the poor cat back on the streets. She shook her head, making up her mind, "I can't ... My place isn't good," she just said. It was as if even around animals she couldn't say what was really going on at home. Sometimes she felt like yelling. Getting all of her anger and frustration out. But in the end, what would that help? Nobody listened anyways.
Pulling out her phone with a cracked screen she looked at the time. The gas station was still open. "Sorry, fella, I gotta get going," she sighed, moving the cat off of her lap and getting to her feet. The other cats had long gone, leaving behind the empty containers that she remembered to pick up and throw in to the dumpster. Off she went, heading towards the gas station.

These nights at the gas station were getting longer and longer. But he hoped it would soon change when spring would come and the days would get longer. He was finishing up his shift. That strange girl had come again, blood on her face as if she had been out fighting. Though her knuckles weren't bruised, so he assumed she had lost. Taking out a bag of trash he went around the back opening the lid to the dumpster as he had to jump not to have a fucking heart attack. "Holyyyyy mother of gods," he panted, placing a hand on his chest to feel his heart pumping away. There was an animal there. Was it dead? He went a little closer, grabbing his lighter to poke at the blob of hair and blood.

It wasnt the most optimal place to be, the stench quite bad but at least he would be left alone. Right? A least just a few hours and then he would scout for a way to get back to the school. He didnt know how long he laid there, at least a while when someone suddenly removed the lid and had a heart attack. Gaspar opened his eyes to feel the lighter poke at his side. In a hissy fit he swatted at the hand with a hiss, not using his claws. He at least wanted to warn the person before scratching, even strangers that could be dangerous. Gaspar hadnt met dangers yet, only other rude cats. He just looked at him with his ears perking, like he was somehow entitled to know why he was being disturbed this rudely by this stranger.

The swat of the paw made him breathe more easy, but also rather happy that the cat hadn't just scratched him up. "Alright, alright - you the boss here, little guy," he chuckled shaking his head, "but you gotta get out of there." Even if the cat would fight back, he grabbed around it, lifting it up and out of the way so he could throw the bag in there. He had let go of the Maine coon, rather surprised at how big and heavy it was. "Are you lost?" he asked, squatting down to see if it had a collar or something on it. It didn't seem so. There didn't really seem to be any people around either. Hearing the bell go off inside the store he sighed, "if you're still here when I close up, I'm bringing you home with me." Cats never stayed in this part of town, so he was at least going to try and see if he could find the owners. He went back in, finishing up his hours and as he clocked out, he stood out in the alley once more. Looking around he was trying to spot if the cat had hung around, he doubted it, but he hoped at least.