Those Eyes
1330 Words
As I'm getting lost in thought, I start to question myself. I haven't learned how to shift yet even though I'm getting close to my teenage years. Usually most people shift around now or by the time they turn 13, but I show no signs of it like other children normally would.
And it seems like I'm not the only one who's noticing this, either. Other people in the village are giving me a look that sends shivers down my spine.
Those eyes.
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I can feel the people's stares baring a hole into my back whenever they think I'm not looking or paying attention. It's probably best to ignore them, but it still bothers me.
It's just another day minding my own business, tending to myself and making sure I have enough to eat and such. Doing my best to not bother anyone since I don't want to cause trouble. But even when I'm not doing anything wrong, I know there's probably something wrong with me in general. The people have started whispering, saying things about me behind my back.
Do they think I can't hear them? No, they probably know very well that I can. They're doing this on purpose, to get under my fur. I act like it's not working, but my growing irritation proves that it is no matter how much I try to push their words down and not worry about it.
"Isn't that the bastard orphan child?" One voice says. "I heard its father ran away before it was even born, and its mother died right after giving childbirth," another voice whispers. "It's cursed, I tell you! Why else would it still be stuck as a little bunny? It's like it's not even a shifter," the third voice exclaims much louder than the others, making it clear that they wanted to make sure I heard it personally amongst all the chattering voices and lowly whispers all spouting negative rumors about me.
But what if it's not a rumor? What if.. it's the truth?
The idea causes me to form a lump in my throat, my breath hitching slightly as a sense of panic takes its form in my feeble bunny mind. I start to tremble, finding it hard to breathe. I think I always knew deep down that it was possible for it to all be my fault, that I'm cursed, but I never thought to consider it. No, it's more like I never wanted to consider it. I mean, who would? If it really is all because of me, and it's true that I can't shape-shift, then I'd be no better than the cursed black rabbit you hear in the stories.
Now that I think about it, I am a black bunny. But the difference between me and the one in the stories is that my eyes are green, not white. The cursed black bunny in the stories has paper-white eyes, almost as if it's blind. However, my eyes are dark-green, so there's no way I'm the same cursed rabbit that's in the stories. It's just an old mare's tale anyways.
My hyperventilating refuses to stop no matter how much I try to calm myself down. My mind is swirling as I overthink and I feel as if I'm about to pass out. s**t, is this because I let their words get to me? That'd just mean that this is my fault as well. Why is it always me?
I can't even stop my brain from yelling at myself. Well, it's because there's the possibility that they're right, and that's what scares me the most. I need to get a grip on myself before my thoughts swirl more and more out of control, but how do I stop something like this?
If they're right, there's no reason for me to be considered a part of the pack anymore. Even just their suspicions could be enough to sell me off to some place else. If it's reasonable enough, that is. The fact that even I'm starting to believe what they have to say proves that there's not much knowledge on where I'm from and who I am. Since there's not much information on me and my family, they could consider their suspicions enough to send me off, especially if they really want to get rid of me.
There's not any proof that I'm a shifter, either. I could just be a regular animal with a heightened IQ or something, enough to gain self-awareness and sentience. If that's the case, even if I have the same amount of sentience as a shifter, I would be deemed more of an outcast than before and become a dirty, worthless slave in no time.
The idea sends a shiver down my spine
Before I know it, I'm running to who knows where with shaky breaths and a trembling form. I have no set destination, nowhere in particular that I'd even want to go to and definitely nowhere that I'd know the way to. I actually haven't explored much outside of my pack village. We kind of consider the forest as part of our village to an extent, but there's definitely a certain point where it'd be too far out to be considered within Pianique territory.
Despite these facts, I run. I can still feel their eyes boring into my back, the feeling of malicious intent making me run even faster. But no matter how fast I run, I'm sadly aware that I'm simply a tiny little bunny rabbit that can be easily chased down and captured.
But even as I hear the crinkling of grass behind me and quick footsteps following me in my wake, I refuse to stop my sprint.
I only stop once the net is over me, securing me in a way where I have no chance of escape even as I bite and claw away. f**k, I'm screwed. Me running could be considered a sign of my guilty conscience, and if they use that in court, I'll definitely be forced into becoming a slave regardless of if what they say is true. What matters more is their suspicions being possible, and me acting guilty by running away.
Why did I have to f*****g run? I just made things worse for myself. If I was going to run, I should've done it years ago when they all had less suspicions about me and wouldn't have even batted an eye at me leaving the pack. But now... now they have even more reason to blame me for everything.
What's worse is that even as I'm struggling in this net, trying desperately to escape, I still question if they're right. I know it's possible, but I don't want to believe it. I haven't done anything wrong, have I? So lt me go, let me out! Stop dragging me away, I don't want to go with you. Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to you?!
Of course, my cries and shouts are kept within my mind, only showing from the desperation in my eyes as I practically beg for escape. But my pleading falls on deaf ears as they continue to take me away to the courtroom where they'll most likely hold a trial with evidence stacked against me.
And then I'll be a slave, considered worthless to the pack and sold off to someone else who'll find some use for a tiny servant rabbit such as myself. With no way to properly communicate in the human tongue, and no signs of being able to shift my form, I'll be worth nothing more than some menial labor like digging holes. I'll probably be beaten, starved and overworked.
Because, honestly, who would care about a bastard orphan rabbit such as myself? The answer is nobody.
Nobody will care about me if things go the way I'm guessing they'll go.
Wait.
Now that I think about it...
Did these people ever care about me?
- Writer
