Chapter Text
Chapter 0 – Why is it always me
Would death hurt?
Maybe I should have waited. However, I didn't know it after all. How could I?
For me it was a completely normal Friday. It was slowly getting dark outside. I should probably walk my family’s dog. The time wasn't for it, but it had been a busy day at school, and he deserved it after being home alone for so long.
"Star, do you want to go out for a walk?" I asked her. Her ears raised up immediately and her tail went crazy with excitement.
"Good girl," I held back a laugh.
Before I went out, I shouted to Heather that I’m taking Star out and I love Heather.
“Love You Too Son”
It wouldn't be a long walk I decided. Only around the block. It was a beautiful place Heather had found. Star showed me the way and couldn't stop herself from smelling every low hanging branch. My eyes were fixated on her ears as they moved and turned when I made small whistles.
Star was a Shitzu with a white and brown coat. She almost disappeared in the dark. Only the white body gave her away. Suddenly her head turned. I followed her gaze. A small animal - most likely a squirrel - moved in the dark. Star started barking.
"No don't-" she was too strong. She tugged at the harness. Everything went so fast. I knew people said that these moments felt like going slow motion. Not this. All it took was a second. A strong wind blew up my hair. The light from a moving vehicle came closer.
Star looked up at me now the squirrel was gone. She knew what was going to happen. I could see the guilt. She didn't mean it to go like this. I knew that.
Then the car hit me.
Now I know. Death didn't really hurt. Not after the first minutes at least. It was like having my eyes closed. Everything pitch black yet I could see light.
It was over.
Then I opened my eyes. The light came back. The sound, taste and smell and touch. It all came back.
So it wasn't over after all.
I opened my eyes to a blinding light. Everything was a blur, and I could hear distant voices. As my vision slowly cleared, I realized I was lying on a cold pavement. Confusion gripped me, and I tried to piece together what had happened.
The last thing I remembered was crossing the street while walking the dog. Then, it hit me, a sudden impact, screeching tires, and the world spinning out of control. I had been hit by a car.
Panic surged through me as I tried to move, but pain shot through every inch of my body. I winced, feeling a dull ache in my limbs and a throbbing pain in my head. Slowly, I pushed myself up and took in my surroundings.
“What in the world?” I whispered as I cracked my joints
The world was nothing like I remembered. The buildings were taller, the streets were cleaner, and the air seemed fresher. It was as if I had been transported to another reality. As I stumbled to my feet, I noticed that everyone around me was different too.
Animals. Humanoid animals.
I blinked, trying to make sense of the anthropomorphic creatures bustling around me. Lions in business suits, rabbits with backpacks, and wolves chatting by the sidewalk.
I hunched my shoulders and tried to move inconspicuously through the crowd, my eyes darting nervously in every direction.
As I passed by a group of wolves, I caught snippets of their conversation – whispers that sounded like growls in my ears. Were they talking about me? Anxiety knotted my stomach, and I quickened my pace, weaving through the sea of animals like a shadow.
The feeling of being prey intensified with every passing moment. I couldn't shake the paranoia that someone, something, was sizing me up, ready to pounce. My heart raced, and I felt the weight of every gaze on my back. The instinct to run took hold, but I knew drawing attention to myself would only make matters worse.
Turning into a narrow alley, I hoped to find a moment of respite. The walls closed in around me, casting long shadows that seemed to morph into predatory shapes. I pressed my back against the cool bricks, desperately trying to catch my breath.
That's when I heard it – a low growl echoing through the alley. My breath hitched, and my eyes widened as I cautiously peered around the corner. There, a few feet away, stood a massive tiger. His orange and black stripes seemed to ripple with power, and his eyes locked onto mine.
Panic surged through me. Without thinking, I stumbled backward, colliding with a stack of empty crates. The noise reverberated through the alley, and the tiger's growl deepened. My heart pounded in my chest, and before I could comprehend what was happening, I turned and sprinted away, my footsteps echoing in the narrow passage.
The tiger roared behind me, and the sound fuelled my fear. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I zigzagged through the maze-like alleys, desperate to put distance between myself and the apex predator. The world became a blur of colours and shapes as I focused solely on escaping the relentless pursuit.
I couldn't shake the feeling of being hunted. Every shadow seemed to conceal a lurking danger, and the echoes of the tiger's roars haunted my every step.
I stopped on a crowded street, feeling a bit lightheaded, and mumbled to myself, "Man, I'm hungry."
A nearby food stall caught my eye, its savoury aroma wafting through the air. Determined to satisfy my growling stomach, I approached the vendor with a hopeful smile. The assortment of dishes looked tantalizing, and I licked my lips in anticipation.
"Hey, could I get something to eat?" I asked, trying to sound casual despite the gnawing hunger.
The vendor, a grizzled rabbit with a stern expression, glanced at me dismissively. "Money first, kid. No money, no food."
My heart sank. I patted my pockets, realizing I had nothing to offer. "I… I don't have any money right now, but I promise I'll find a way to pay you back. Can't you just give me something small? I'm really hungry."
The rabbit's expression hardened, and he shook his head. "Rules are rules. No exceptions."
I swallowed my pride and the urge to snatch a morsel when he wasn't looking. Instead, I muttered a quiet "thanks anyway" and turned away, disappointment weighing heavy on my shoulders.
As I walked away from the food stall, my mind raced. The hunger intensified, and desperation clouded my judgment. The temptation to swipe a snack and disappear into the bustling crowd was strong, but I resisted. I couldn't afford to draw attention to myself, especially when I was still trying to understand the dynamics of this strange world.
A sudden thought crossed my mind – meat. Maybe that was the key to satiating my hunger. I approached an elderly turtle who seemed to be taking a leisurely stroll nearby.
"Excuse me," I started, "do you know where I can find some good meat around here? I'm really craving it."
Before I could finish my sentence, the turtle's eyes widened in shock, and he interrupted me with an agitated tone. "Never mention meat! It's forbidden! Do you want to cause a commotion? Show some respect!"
Taken aback by the old turtle's outburst, I mumbled an apology and took a step back. He continued to scold me, warning against discussing such matters in public. My frustration grew, and being the stubborn person I was, I decided I had heard enough.
Ignoring the turtle's admonitions, I turned on my heels and walked away, choosing not to engage in a lecture.
I continued my journey, still hungry and now also feeling a chill in the air. The wind whispered through the bustling city, and I couldn't help but shiver. It was then that my eyes landed on a massive black leather jacket draped over the back of a bench.
My breath caught in my throat as recognition dawned on me. It was the same jacket worn by the tiger from the alleyway, the one that had made my heart race and my legs carry me away in a desperate attempt to escape its owner. Despite the intimidating encounter, the jacket seemed to call out to me, promising warmth and a sense of security.
Faintly, in the recesses of my mind, I heard the gentle voice of my stepmother Heather, a reminder to do what's right. "Ryan, never steal. It's not who you are," she would say, her words echoing in my conscience. However, another voice, a mischievous and rebellious version of myself, urged me to seize the opportunity.
A miniature version of me, with a devilish grin, appeared in my imagination, whispering, "Come on, Ryan, you need this. Just take it. The tiger won't even notice. You deserve it."
I shook my head, trying to dispel the conflicting thoughts. The internal struggle continued, Heather's voice advocating for honesty while the devilish mini-me taunted me with the allure of the jacket.
Apologizing silently to Heather, I tentatively approached the bench. The jacket hung there, a symbol of mystery and perhaps a hint of danger. I hesitated, glancing around to ensure no one was watching. My fingers hovered over the leather, and I took a deep breath, as if preparing to plunge into the unknown.
In that moment, the decision was made. I swiftly grabbed the jacket, feeling the cool leather against my fingertips. Guilt gnawed at me, but the mischievous mini-me seemed to cheer in triumph.
"Sorry, Heather," I whispered under my breath, my conflicted feelings a chaotic swirl within me. The jacket clutched in my hands, I turned on my heels and bolted away, weaving through the crowd with newfound urgency.
I slipped into the massive black leather jacket, its sleeves hanging far beyond my fingertips and the collar nearly reaching my nose. The jacket, which had once adorned the hulking frame of the tiger in the alley, now engulfed my much smaller form. It was as if I had been swallowed by the oversized garment, drowning in a sea of leather.
A burst of laughter bubbled up within me as I looked down at myself. I must have appeared comical, a pint-sized figure lost in the cavernous expanse of the jacket. The irony of the situation hit me, and the tension that had lingered from my earlier misdeed began to dissipate. Perhaps the universe had a sense of humour after all.
As I strolled along the crowded streets, I couldn't help but ponder the absence of humans in this peculiar realm. The question echoed in my mind – where were the humans? It seemed as if I were the only one of my kind in this anthropomorphic tapestry. The realization left me feeling both isolated and intrigued.
Shrugging off the existential musings, I refocused on the immediate task at hand. The need for shelter and a moment of respite gnawed at me. My stomach still protested its emptiness, and my tired limbs begged for rest.
A colourful sign caught my eye, pointing in two different directions. One arrow indicated "Herbivores," while the other pointed toward "Carnivores."
Being an omnivore, I found myself caught between two worlds, neither distinctly herbivore nor carnivore. The memories of the encounter with the tiger in the alleyway flashed in my mind, and an instinctive sense of self-preservation urged me to choose the path of the herbivores. Safer, I thought. I had no desire to encounter the intimidating tiger again.
I took a deep breath and followed the path marked for herbivores. The bustling street seemed to change subtly, the air lighter, the atmosphere more serene. The creatures around me, predominantly herbivores, ambled along peacefully. Deer nibbled on grassy snacks, rabbits hopped by, and the occasional giraffe towered above the crowd.
As I walked through the herbivore-dominated part of the city, a sense of security settled over me. The jacket, despite its ludicrous size, blended in with the herbivores' attire, and I became just another member of the crowd.
As I strolled through the market, the need for shelter resurfaced in my mind. The hustle and bustle of the herbivore side revealed a variety of quaint establishments, but the distinct lack of carnivores suggested that my chances of finding a suitable hotel were slim.
Just as doubt began to creep in, a sign caught my eye – "Leafy Haven Hotel: Exclusively for Herbivores." A surge of relief washed over me, and a grin spread across my face. Without a second thought, I fist-bumped the air in celebration, my excitement bursting forth. I jumped up and down, feeling an odd sense of accomplishment for discovering the perfect haven.
Unbeknownst to me, my celebration had unintended consequences. The oversized jacket, still draped over me, had unwittingly enveloped a small rabbit who happened to be nearby. In my elation, I failed to notice the added passenger.
As I continued my triumphant dance, the rabbit girl inside the jacket was jostled about, her eyes wide with shock. I finally slowed down, catching my breath and finally noticing the terrified gaze of the rabbit peering out from the collar of the jacket.
A gasp escaped her lips, and I froze in place, realizing the unexpected stowaway in my celebration. Her eyes widened, and I could almost hear her heartbeat racing. Panic surged through me, and I fumbled for words.
"Uh, hey there," I stammered, desperately trying to sound casual. "You, uh, saw nothing. Just a little… dance, you know?"
The rabbit girl, still wide-eyed, seemed torn between confusion and terror. I gently removed her from the confines of the jacket, offering an awkward smile in an attempt to defuse the tension.
"Sorry about that," I muttered, avoiding eye contact. "Enjoy the rest of your day."
With that, I turned away, my face burning with embarrassment. As I awkwardly retreated from the scene, I heard a faint gasp behind me, but I dared not look back. The bustling market seemed to swallow my self-consciousness as I navigated through the crowd.
The Leafy Haven Hotel stood tall before me, a sanctuary for herbivores in the heart of the city. I approached the reception desk, still feeling the awkward remnants of the unexpected encounter. The receptionist, a composed gazelle, greeted me with a courteous smile.
"Welcome to Leafy Haven Hotel. How may I assist you?" she inquired.
"I'd like a room, please," I replied, trying to maintain composure despite the lingering embarrassment.
After a brief exchange, I found myself with a room key in hand. As I ascended the staircase to my quarters, I couldn't help but reflect on the whirlwind of experiences that had marked my journey through Beastar.
I crossed the room and collapsed onto the bed with a weary sigh.
As I lay there, the room's tranquillity enveloped me. The dim light filtering through the curtains cast a gentle glow, and the distant sounds of the herbivore market below provided a soothing backdrop. I began to remove the jacket, peeling away the layers that concealed the peculiar events of the day.
The fabric slipped off my shoulders, and I tossed the oversized jacket onto a nearby chair. A sense of liberation washed over me as I stretched out on the bed. The events of the day played back in my mind like a surreal movie, each scene more peculiar than the last.
I removed my glasses, rubbing my eyes tiredly, and began to speak to myself. "What a day," I muttered, my voice a whisper in the quiet room. "Encounters with talking animals, accidental rabbit kidnappings, being in a different universe and probably being the only human, and now an herbivore-only hotel. What in the world is going on?"
The room seemed to echo my thoughts, and for a moment, I felt a surreal detachment from reality. The line between dream and waking life blurred, and I wondered if I would wake up to find this was all a bizarre figment of my imagination.
Just as the edges of sleep began to tug at my consciousness, a knock on the door startled me. I groaned in protest, realizing that I was not yet free from the interruptions of the day. With a reluctant sigh, I dragged myself off the bed and stumbled to the door.
Upon opening it, I was met with the gaze of a deer, standing there with a tray of food in its hooves. The deer wore a polite smile, clearly here for room service.
"Good evening! Complimentary dinner for our guests," the deer chirped cheerfully, its eyes gleaming with hospitality.
I hesitated for a moment, my stomach growling in protest. The mention of free food was tempting, and I took the tray with a grateful nod. "Thanks," I mumbled, my weariness evident in my voice.
As the deer's eyes met mine, a sudden declaration slipped from my lips without a second thought. "I could eat a horse right now."
The deer's expression morphed from friendliness to horrified disbelief. My eyes widened, and it took me a minute to register the unintended gaffe. I panicked, realizing how inappropriate my choice of words had been.
"Oh, uh, it's just an expression!" I stammered, attempting to salvage the situation. "I didn't mean… I mean, I wouldn't eat a horse! It's just a saying. Sorry about that."
Embarrassed, I flashed a sheepish smile, shutting the door in a hurried attempt to escape the awkward encounter. Alone once again, I surveyed the tray of food. Bread, oranges, and a carton of soy milk greeted me. My stomach grumbled in anticipation, but as I reached for the milk, a realization struck me.
"I'm allergic to milk," I muttered to myself, shaking my head at the irony of the situation. The day had been a rollercoaster of peculiarities, and the accidental encounter with room service added yet another layer to my humiliations
With a sigh, I set aside the carton of soy milk, opting for the bread and oranges. As I devoured the simple meal, I couldn't help but wonder what new surprises awaited me in the days to come.
As my body sank into the mattress, the oversized jacket lay draped across the nearby chair, a reminder of the unpredictable twists that had marked my journey through Beastar. I ran a hand through my hair, closing my eyes, and let out a contented sigh. Sleep beckoned like a gentle lullaby, promising respite from the surreal reality that had become my new normal.
With a final exhale, I succumbed to the gentle pull of slumber, my consciousness drifting into the realm of dreams.