MICHAEL

Rough hands with calloused skin push me into the back of the car, forcing me to duck my head as they squeeze me into the small opening of the metal cage. The cold, steel bars feel like ice against my skin as they slam shut the door, sliding the bars until they lock. I feel imprisoned, trapped inside this tiny cage with nothing but my quivering shadow to comfort me as the men step back, moving away from the car. I lift my pale eyes to see Luke, sprinting down the lawn overgrown with dead grass, tears streaming down his perfect cheeks as his legs try to carry him down to me, but the distance between us is too vast.

I can see the detectives grip the edge of the car door, ready to push it closed and eliminate the last strands of connection between me and Luke, so I try and memorize every scrap of beauty encrypted into his face-- his soft blonde hair, his bright blue eyes swimming in a sea of tears, his smooth pale skin decorated with a cute nose and pink lips. I remember so vividly the feeling of them against mine, the hearts in our chests beating at an uneven rhythm, bright eyes full of love. I watch him get closer and closer to the car, and for one moment, one meager moment, I am foolishly hopeful that Luke might be able to reach me, to get me out of the cramped cage and let me wrap myself in his strong arms.

All this is eliminated when the men slam shut the car door, cutting off the blonde boy's view of me. Unfortunately, I can still see him through the dark windows, and my eyes swell with tears when I watch him grab at his hair, collapsing to his knees as the men get into the vehicle and slam on the accelerator. The cage slides forward and slams into the walls of the car, jerking me and I bite my lip to resist a cry of pain. I stare out the window as I watch Luke get farther and farther away, his defeated body slumped onto the hard concrete ground, tears glistening in the reflection of the moon.

Eventually, Luke evaporates from my line of vision and haunts my thoughts instead, the car driving out onto a long, barren highway. I turn away from the window, struggling to move my body in the tiny cage. Looking over my shoulder, my eyes catch onto the two men at the front of the car. Neither of them speak, and I am too afraid to get their attention, unsure and terrified of what they might do to me.

I settle down into the crate, the metal bars scraping against my skin. For a moment, I don't know why I am enclosed inside this cage in the first place, until I realize they don't see me as a human. They see me as an animal. A filthy cat that deserves to be locked up in this enclosure, treated like an animal. I feel like an animal, and the thought makes me want to start crying.

I look down at my fingers, short and pale. I lift them up to my ears, which are drooped slightly. I'm exhausted, my eyes red and aching. I want to sleep, considering it is way past the time I normally go to bed, but the car keeps hitting bumps and making my head smack the top of the cage and I can feel bruises start to form. I normally take naps repeatedly throughout the day, including the deep sleep I have every night, and I feel like every muscle I move is forced, but I can't seem to go to sleep now. I drop my hands back down to my lap, and then I pull my tail out from where it was hidden in my jeans. There is no use hiding it now. It's over. I'm over.

I lay my tail down on my lap and stare at it almost angrily. I hate it. I hate the ears on my head. I hate my insecure and shy personality that matches one of a kitten. I hate the simple, general fact that I am a hybrid, the one species that everyone seems to despise. I don't know what I did to them. I don't know what someone else of my kind did to make humans hate us so much. I don't like feeling like an animal, like how these detectives make me feel. My mum always taught me that I am no different than a human, I just have some added characteristics that differ from theirs. Luke made me feel normal. He made me feel like I belong in the world of people who lack cat ears and tails.

Tears burn in my eyes. I hate how I feel so worthless now.

The drive seems to last for hours, and maybe it does. My sense of time has been diminished and every second feels like a century. When the car does finally jolt to a stop, the sky is still dark, with the slight hint of morning, and I want only to reverse the time to where we were laying by the campfire on the beach, the late night waves crashing against the sand and no worry on our minds.

I hear the car doors open and close at the front of the car, and I can feel the weight lighten inside the car. A moment later, the back car door is pulled open, and I look up to see Draven. He gets one of his detectives, and they each grab a handle on either side of the cage. They pull the cage out of the car and I yelp slightly when they pull me out into open air, no ground under me except for the metal seat of the cage. They carry the crate recklessly, not caring when I am bashed up to the steel bars, the metal pinching my skin painfully. I grip the sides with my fingers in an effort to keep myself steady, but it proves to be helpless, so I eventually curl up on myself and let my body be tossed around the crate.

The bodies still for a moment, and I peek between my fingers to see them punching in a password in front of two large doors. A green light flickers on and beeps, and then the doors open automatically. They walk inside and enter a small, dimly lit room straight ahead. Inside, they drop the cage on the floor and I yelp at the impact. The men bend down and unlock the door, swinging it open and staring in at me with cold eyes.

"Get out." They demand, and I hate myself for crawling out willingly at their order. The ground is freezing under my touch and the air is damp. Draven turns around and grabs a piece of clothing that looks a lot like a hospital gown, and tosses it to me.

"Get dressed." He says, and I stare at him, and then down at the piece of fabric. I don't want to undress in front of them. I won't. I won't. I w--

Draven sneers and grabs my arm, dragging me over to him angrily. He grabs my sweater in his rough hands and pulls it off, and then he rips off my jeans, looking disgusted that I am wearing human clothes at all. He strips me of the soft clothes I was wearing and pulls the hospital gown on, tying it loosely in the back. The air is cold on my skin and their rough words and touches makes tears form in my eyes, dripping silently down my cheeks.

They notice the tears and they hit me on the side of the head. "Stop crying." They say, and I try and stop the tears as fast as possible, not wanting to be hit again. My head throbs, and they grab my arm, dragging me against my will out of the small room. The two men turn directly to their left and begin walking down a long, wide hallway.

Immediately, a sick smell comes to my nose and I lift my head, peering past the men beside me to see the cause of this. My eyes widen when I see cage after cage of hybrids trapped behind the bars. They all look terrible, their skin bruised and bloody. Their cheeks are hollow; their bones prominent under their skin and their eyes dead. Many of them look up dully to watch me as I am dragged along row after row. My throat closes up as I stare at each and every one of them. Some are cat hybrids like me, but some are different breeds. Dog hybrids, fox hybrids, bunny hybrids, all different kinds that I have never seen before. They all look tortured, their skin red and their tails limp by their sides. I notice that there are nametags at the front of each cage, and I read each one, my skin paling when I see that their actual names are not used. Instead, they are labeled as numbers. Hybrid 24. Hybrid 935. Hybrid 193. The numbers seem to be out of order, some in the single digits and some in the thousands. Their skin is cut up and bruised, and I want to start sobbing when I realize that this could be me in a few days. What do they do to these people?

The stop suddenly, and I notice an empty cage sitting alone, between two occupied cages. They open the door and push me slightly. I shut my eyes and crawl into the cage, curling my knees to my chest and hiding the tears on my cheeks as they shut the door firmly, the locks clicking into place. I feel used, even though they have barely touched me yet.

I hear footsteps, and I look up to see three people walking in to meet Draven and the other detective. The people are wearing lab coats, as though they were scientists, and their beady eyes look down at me. Smiles curl onto their lips with satisfaction when they see my disjointed form sitting crumpled behind the bars.

"So this is him?" one of them say, and they bend down to analyze me. I shrink back against the bars.

"Yes, this is him. Hybrid 303." Draven says, pride clear in his voice. I swallow sourly, staring at the rusty steel of my crate instead of at their cold eyes. Hybrid 303. Not Michael, Hybrid 303.

"Took a while to find him, yeah?" one of the scientists says, straightening back up.

"Yeah. Get this, he was living with humans. Humans." Draven scoffs, shaking his head. "He was also in a relationship with one of them. The guy went insane. I was contemplating sending him to a mental ward or something. I mean, dating a fucking hybrid? Seriously?"

The group of men laugh together, a demonic sound in this silent room, and they move away from my crate, heading towards a door at the end of the hallway. Their words stab me like knives, and I try to ignore them, try to block out their voices like white noise, but I can't seem to. I quickly wipe my eyes, trying not to let any more tears escape.

"When are we going to start testing on him?" a voice says as they open the door. They file inside one by one, but I manage to catch the dreaded answer before the door shuts firmly.

"Tomorrow."

The room falls into silence, apart from my strangled sobs that I can't help release from my throat. This is it. Everything is over. I can't help but hope that in some sort of imprudent miracle, Luke will come and find me, save me from wherever the hell I am. I push myself back until I hit the corner of the crate, and then I burrow my head into my knees, my skin scratching against the uncomfortable hospital gown. I wrap my arms around my legs, pushing my tail away from my skin, so that I don't have to feel what makes me different from everyone else. My tears wet the abrasive fabric, and I feel like a disease.

I can't imagine what Luke is doing at the moment. Perhaps he is relieved, relieved that I have finally crawled out from under his skin. Maybe he is released from the chains that I created, allowing him to pursue whatever he wanted to complete in his life without me holding him back. Maybe now he can go perform his music at restaurants and get noticed by some talent agent. Maybe he can go work at a record store and meet somebody that lacks a tail to make him happier than he ever has before. I want this for him, I want him to have a normal life, and perhaps he will, now that I am no longer in the picture.

I know that Ashton will be happy now that I am gone. He let us in with open arms, but look at all the trouble that caused. It didn't turn out good for anyone. If anything, all it did was make me feel as though I could be accepted in this world of bloodless hearts.

I turn towards the cage to the right of me, to maybe ask them what the people are like here, and what they do to make everybody seem so pitiful, but when my eyes stray across the metal bars, I see the person inside is unconscious. My mouth gapes open. It's a girl, judging by the long hair chopped jaggedly at her shoulders, and her thin frame. She is a cat hybrid like me, her ears black as night. I tear my eyes away from where she lays and turn to my left, to see a boy who is also unconscious. I don't bother trying to find out what kind he is, I just look forward, away from the two people beside me and I try not to let panic grow like a wildfire inside of me.

"Luke." I whimper, letting the word escape from my lips like morphine, wanting my love to come save me, come save me from the hell that is this facility.

My mum was here. My dad was here. They are both dead. They killed them. They will kill me, I'm sure of it. I can already tell they hate me, maybe more than everyone else in this room, because I was stupid enough to try and escape. I turn towards the girl to the right of me again.

"Excuse me?" I whisper, trying to wake the girl up. She doesn't stir. I try to whisper to her again, and shake my crate so it will rattle and make some noise, but she is in a deep sleep, obviously not going to wake up anytime soon. I blink, feeling very lonely, and I look away, staring down at my bare feet instead. It's cold. I'm very cold, and this flimsy gown does nothing to warm me up.

I want to be in Luke's warm arms, cuddled in a soft sweater and holding a mug of hot chocolate that Luke never actually figured out how to make. I want to watch movies that I never could stay awake for and snuggle against Luke's broad chest, listening to his even breaths instead of the movie. I want to sleep in his warm embrace by the campfire, the warmth heating my skin and the soft sand serving as a pillow for our bodies. I want to feel the ocean waves lick at my toes and I want the salty breeze to cause goose bumps to prickle over my skin, just so Luke will see them and wrap me up into his embrace. Luke made me feel wanted. Luke made me feel loved. Luke brought me back to health again when I was starving in the woods and Luke made my world brighter in color.

I close my eyes, trying to let sleep overtake me, but it's hard to when the smell of the room is sickening, and an occasional yelp or cry is heard from the back room outside of the hallway. It's terrifying whenever I hear them, because I have no idea what is going on, but it sounds like they are in pain. I can only assume they are being tested on, and that petrifies me since I will be in the same position tomorrow.

Tomorrow. It's hard for me to wrap my mind around it that tomorrow will even come. I feel like my life has been sectioned off into three separate parts: living in the woods, living with Luke, and being here at the facility. I should have seen in coming. Happiness doesn't last forever. Even the angels fall short of perfection at times.

I pick up my tail and stroke it, feeling the fur under my skin. It feels normal to me, having a tail, but I suppose it is an abnormality to everyone else. An abomination of nature. An aberration that is attributed by my cat qualities that I used to love but now I hate.

It was silly of me to believe that I could fit in. That I was just another human with a few added features. I guess I got what I deserved.

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A/N poor mikey is feeling helpless

this update is long overdue but the update for War is especially long overdue. it will hopefully be updated soon for anyone who reads that.

ily and please vote and comment! stay fabulous