Sick Like Me

Illusion's movements paused as Cadaver turned to face her, his larger figure casting a shadow over the rowdy boy she remembered. She felt the weight of his dismissive gaze, a rejection that cut deeper than any blade. He was changing. Too fast. Too much. She hated that she seemingly hadn’t been there for any part of it. What was she? What did she mean to him? A burden? A shackle that prevented him from going off into the unknown like he so badly seemed to want?

‘Not now, Illusion,’ Her brother growled, his voice dripping with contempt. Contempt. His words stung like salt in an open wound, cruel — telling of her insignificance in his eyes. But she refused to back down, she wouldn’t have been his sister if she did. The girl who always showed her soft, sweet face was melting away under his scathing dismissal.

Her fur bristled with defiance as she met his glare head-on, refusing to cower at his towering presence. “I won't go home.” The girl of slate gray-blue fur declared, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. She wanted to scream. She wanted to make him stay. “Not until you listen to me, Cadaver.” She hissed, silver eyes so hollow and cold they could have been blind — and perhaps she was; with madness.

She took a step forward, closing the distance between them despite the warning in his voice. The heat of the asphalt beneath her paws made her temper simmer below the surface of her skin. The mask could not handle the pressure it was under, and began to crack and splinter before him. For all her unfeeling nature, when it came to him — all she felt was intense horrible things. Attachment. Jealously. Insecurity. It was too much to process, especially when he was pulling away from her. “I’m sick and tired of being ignored, of being a good girl, I’VE BEEN A GOOD GIRL! ALWAYS! EVERYDAY!” She screeched, her tone laced with frustration as her tail lashed behind her. Her skull dropped low, eyes trying to focus on anything in front of her. Dirt. Rocks. Her toes. Maybe if she could remind him of what they’d promised…  “Admit it. You want to leave me behind, just like mother did… you were supposed to be my favorite. I was supposed to be yours.” Her voice would be heard. She was not a decoration to be placed somewhere and forgotten. She was worth more than that. She was worth everything.


illu