1
Reese
I need more.
Like, a lot more.
I run around on the wood shavings and sniff and sift through it, searching for something—anything—to help build up my nest. Maybe some lovely pillow stuffing. Or a marble to add some color. A bottle cap would go nicely too. But there’s nothing. I squeak in utter distress.
My nest sucks.
And I’m so friggen hungry.
When was the last time Rick Dick gave me food? Or water? I can’t remember. I don’t even know how long it’s been since I’ve last seen him, the bastard.
I’m stuck in this crate with no way out, and just thinking about it kicks my anxiety up about ten notches. Cheese and mice, being trapped is not a good feeling, so… Must focus on nest.
I used to have more things in my old cage. Not much, but those little glass shards and pieces of wrappers really helped me add a little flair. I love shiny things. But that was before Rick Dick kicked my cage—with me in it—and broke it against the wall. Now I’m in this old plastic crate reinforced with plexiglass. Nothing in here shines except for my sparkling personality.
So...yeah. It’s a little drab.
Using my nose, I start to move the scraps of wood shavings to the corner of the cage and build it up as high and as thick as I can. Then I start digging, digging, digging. I hollow it out and hide inside where it’s dark and warm.
Ah. Nice, cozy little nest.
My stomach growls, aching with emptiness.
My nose twitches. My whiskers flick. I’m so damn hungry. So trapped. Am I going to di—nope. Not gonna let my mind go there.
I need to keep distracting myself. Distraction is the key. Ooh, a coppery key would look so good in here! My beady eyes look around. Nest. I just gotta keep building up my nest.
Maybe I should sift through the wood shavings again…?
Before I can do just that, I hear noises. Is Rick Dick finally back? The thought is both welcome and terrifying. Maybe he’ll feed me and give me water. Or...maybe he won’t. He’s a dick like that.
But when the person starts walking around the space, I know it isn’t Rick Dick. This person smells new. He smells...human.
I hide in my nest, fearful of who this stranger is and what’s going on. I hear voices and things moving around, and all the while, my stomach twists and turns with the need to eat. My mouth is parched, and my body is lethargic. The last of my hoarded crumbs are long gone. I’m desperate for food.
After a while of me hiding from the newcomer, my whole world suddenly starts moving. My claws scrabble for purchase as my crate is lifted up and I’m carried away. Fear slams against my ribs in time with my heart.
Bright sunlight filters in through the plexiglass, and then I’m placed in the backseat of a car. It smells like leather and old french fries. I burrow myself in deeper, trying to hide from the movement. A car door slams, the engine starts, and all I can see is the blue sky out the window.
I don’t know what to think right now. What the hell is going on?
When was the last time I saw the sky? I can’t remember that either. Rick Dick always keeps black sheets tacked to the windows to block the sunlight from coming in. He’s a bat shifter, which is why he always makes his place feel like a dark, dank cave. So even when he let me out of my crate to run around on the threadbare carpet and sniff through all the trash he was always leaving on the floor, it still wasn’t exactly nice living.
We drive for a while. I’m not sure how long, since I doze off at some point, tired out from all my squeaking. I get jolted awake when the door is yanked open and my crate is picked up again. The quick, jerky motion sends my whole nest crashing down around me.
Son of a mouse! My rat is practically forlorn. My nest was really big that time, dammit.
With jostled steps, I’m carried indoors somewhere, and then there’s a clack, and my crate is set down. My heart is racing a million miles an hour, but I don’t dare move. I wait, buried under the shavings, wondering what’s happening now.
I hear voices, but they’re distorted, and honestly, it’s been so long since I’ve spoken that I’m not really tuned in to words anymore. The talking goes on for a while, so I decide I might as well sift through the shavings again. Who knows, maybe something was dislodged while it was jostled around and there will be hidden treasure.
But right as I’m searching my way through, I feel the shavings above me get moved away, and then a hand closes around my body.
I freak the hell out and try to get away, panic consuming me. I don’t have a good track record with hands. Every time Rick Dick picks me up, the bastard always fucks with me or hurts me. Him holding me by tail and dunking me in a bucket of water is his favorite hobby.
I try to bite the hand holding me, thrashing my body left and right to squirm away, but it’s no use. I’m lifted up and out of my crate, and I steel myself, trying to prepare for the torment that’s about to happen.
I look up, my eyes burning at the bright lighting. But the person holding me...it’s not him. It’s not the strange human either, because he just walked out.
I sniff the hand, confirming that this is definitely someone new.
That’s never happened before.
“Hey there,” the voice coos. A female voice. And she sounds...nice. That’s never happened before either. “Cute little mouse.”
My tail twitches in agitation. I am not a cute, puny little mouse. I’m a pack rat, dammit. A fierce, crafty, much more superior, downright majestic pack rat. I mean, have you ever seen a mouse’s nest? It’s pathetic. I can build much better ones. And my tail is, like, way longer.
The woman lifts me up in front of her, and I see a pretty face, blue eyes, and multicolored hair. She checks me over, but then her body goes tense. Her eyes widen as she leans in closer to smell me. “Shit,” she curses. “You’re not just a mouse, are you? Can you shift?” she asks me, worry pulling at the edges of her lips.
At her question, I instantly stop fighting her, but my whole body tenses up.
Cheese and mice, she knows!
She knows that I’m a shifter. Which means she’s probably a shifter. But she hadn’t known that until she scented me, which means...she doesn’t know Rick Dick. How is that possible?
I sense her anxiety heighten, and she sets me down on a clear, smooth surface. I lift my feet, not liking the texture, and my claws click against the glass. I look around warily, my ears tucked back and my tail jerking around wildly, still searching for a trap. Figuratively and literally. Rick Dick thinks it’s funny to put rat traps around his apartment.
But this place is completely foreign to me, rat trap free, and doesn’t smell like him, which makes my anxiety levels spike even more. What game is Rick Dick playing now? What new ways has he thought of to punish me?
I hear the female moving around, and then she starts talking, though no one else is in the room. She’s holding something black against her ear.
Oh, a cell phone. She’s talking on a cell phone.
Damn, how long has it been since I did that? Months? Years? I don’t know. I went through some major scrolling withdrawals when I was first forced into my shifted form. Having myself as my own form of entertainment really sucks sometimes. I can be a real whiny bitch.
She talks on the phone for a while, and then she gently picks me up again. I don’t try to bite her this time, but I do keep my eyes peeled. I know Rick will come back any second, and I want to be hidden away in my nest when that happens.