William came into my room, wakening me up with too much excitement. I got up, like a soldier ready for a drill, alert and ready. He sat on the edge of my bed and just stared at me. “Happy Birthday Kitten.”
It was my 16th birthday, and I had forgot, “How did you know?”
He didn’t answer. “I cooked you some breakfast. Come on,” he said, pulling the covers off of me. I sat on the edge of the bed, two feet barely reaching the ground. He held out his large hand, and I looked up to see those blue eyes. They seemed so sweet today, so caring. I thought that maybe if I just played along with whatever he wanted me to do, maybe my life in that cabin wouldn’t be bad.
My hand grabbed his.
I did wonder if he understood my fear of him. Did he truly understand how I felt? I wasn’t sure how to look at him. I couldn’t stop thinking about what he told me, about him rescuing me. Would I be dead without him? Was my life forever in his debt?
I mean, he was the reason I didn’t get hurt. He saved me. If William wasn’t there, then what would the outcome have been? He saved a young girl from getting raped. I found that heroic, but even a hero has flaws.
Here is the thing about growing up that I had figured out before I was even kidnapped. Every kid has a superhero in mind. A lot of kids look up to policemen, firemen, doctors, their own mom and dad, their brother, teachers, etc.
Possibly, any human being that was older than them and that’s great for a little kid to have a role model. It’s a good thing, it gives them hope, but when that kid gets older, that kid can see that that hero’s are all nothing special, that they are just human, and some of them are good, but too many of them are bad.
That’s why little kids shouldn’t look up to human beings; they shouldn’t ever look up to something that was like them, but bigger. Because it hurts when you come to realize that the hero you looked up to forever, it hurts when they leave your life, and stomp on your heart, like it was all nothing.
It really stings even more when you come to realize that hero possibly never cared about you at all, and that when you poured out your heart and soul to them, they more than likely never listened in the first place. It hurts when they leave without a reason, not getting to say goodbye.
You blame yourself for the longest time, and wonder what the hell was wrong with you and feel so stupid because that’s when you realize your hero never cared.
You meant nothing to them, and they more than likely never thought about you anymore after they leave. They just cared about themselves.
They weren’t heroes.
They were just humans.
They were just policemen, firemen, and doctors that didn’t ever know your name. They were just mom and dad and nothing else. They were just teachers that never cared. Friends who used you.
Maybe that’s why I looked up to fictional characters. It could be the reason why I loved movies and books, because the people in them, they weren’t real. And they could never hurt anyone. You could pretend to be Batman’s sidekick, or that a man in a blue box will take you away to anywhere in space and time. Fictional characters won’t hurt you in any way, because they were never truly there in the first place.
William guided me to kitchen, where he had cooked a large variety of food. Waffles, eggs, fried potatoes and so much more that it looked like a buffet. “You cooked all of this for me?”
“It’s your birthday.”
He had already made me a plate with a little bit of everyone on it. When it was in my hand, he didn’t let go, and grabbed my hand gentle. He gave a soft kiss and then said, “Just remember, I would do anything for you.”
My heart sunk. I took back my hand, and silently went to the table. He made his own plate and joined me. He tried to grab my hand a few more times, but I kept taking it back. The conversion between us was going nowhere, but he tried. After breakfast, he took my plate and placed it in the kitchen.
“I have a surprise for you. Sit on the couch, and close your eyes,” he told me.
The waiting was the hard part. It seemed like forever on that couch. As each moment passed, the more fear based thoughts entered my head. “Meow,” I heard. Without him telling me, I opened my eyes and saw an orange kitty on my lap. It was so small, but it meowed liked a lion.
“You got me a cat?” I wanted to love it, but it was from him. I was confused on how to feel. Like a bully who stole your money every day, but gave part of it back at the end of the year, kind of like taxes in a way.
William nodded. “Yes, I found him in town. Do you like him?”
“I guess.”
The kitty seemed confused and didn’t know what to do. I wondered if he was looking for his mother and siblings. He was so young; he couldn’t have been on his own just yet. He was just like me.
“Isn’t he cute?”
“I like him,” I finally admitted.
“What do you want to name him?” he asked me.
“I don’t know.”
“He’s your cat to take care of. Do what you want with him,” he got closer to me. “This cat will keep you out of trouble.”
I nodded, trying to control the kitty. He was crawling all over me, starching me with his little claws. It didn’t hurt, but I didn’t like it. “I don’t like to punish you, but you needed some time alone in your room.”
It took me a few seconds to realize what he was talking about. That’s the thing about him. When I think he might not be that bad, he proves himself once again. But when I think he’s a monster, he proves he’s a human and can be sweet. That was the worst part about him. There was no pin pointing what he was like.
“You locked me in my room with no food or water,” I said, my voice cracking betraying my false braveness.
“It had to be done.”
There was no arguing with him. The kitty meowed again, and rubbed his head on my arm, making me smile. He may have actually liked me. “Are you hungry little guy?” I asked him.
William was heading for the front door. “I have a few things to do in my shed. I’ll be in around noon, and we can celebrate your birthday.”
I didn’t really reply. I just made a noise, and then found the kitty treats on the tables and feed it to him. William walked outside with a sigh.
I think I understood why he was getting sad. I picked a cat over him. But this cat was kidnapped like me, taken to a new home, forced to love creatures that scared the hell out of him.
“Well little buddy,” I said. He meowed. “We are in this together. And we’ll make it.”
In that moment, I knew what to name the loud cat. A name that could keep me going, a name that I could say and make me keep fighting. It was a beautiful name.
ns 15.158.61.48da2
