Chapter 2: Chapter Two : Another Dreary Day

"Is that him?" A relatively pretty girl asked with a disgusted expression and threw Zackery a despising glance, but he just kept looking ahead without saying anything.

He had long since stopped keeping track of what bad rumors Olivia had spread. All he did at school was the minimum amount of work and ignore the others who looked at him like he was human trash.

When the class ended and lunch rolled around, before he got out of the classroom, a pretty handsome guy with defined muscles blocked the door and sneered.

"I heard you wanted to mess with my girlfriend?" No surprise, when the words were spoken, the classroom burst into noises as various taunts and jeers were sent Zackery's way.

"Who?" Zackery didn't recall interacting with any girls in school since he was unpopular. At most, he had a few friends in an online game, but that was it.

"Olivia." The guy stepped up to Zackery and said loudly and pushed him back. Zackery frowned and looked at the guy with confusion.

"Wasn't she with..." Zackery tried to recall a particular football player and failed. "So you're the new one? What's this, like the seventh this semester?"

As usual, the class jeered and shouted at him while the guy's face in front turned ugly. Before Zackery could say anything, a fist hit his cheek and knocked his head to the side.

Before it could go any further, the teacher who had been present the whole time, finally cut in and separated the two, giving Zackery an admonishing stare.

By the time school had ended, he was the person who tried to say his sister was a slut who slept around in everyone's mouth. Before he got home, he encountered that guy from the classroom again and was hit a few times.

Whereas Olivia had a car, he didn't. All he could do was catch a bus and walk for thirty minutes to the house bordering the forest.

His body ached, but there weren't any bruises aside from the one on his cheek. They had been very careful to hit him where his clothes covered the markings.

By the time he made it back, both his father and stepmother were waiting on the porch with a glare. He sighed and trudged along up to the porch stairs.

"You! You dared to say your sister is a whore?!" Unsurprisingly, his simp of a dad yelled with a finger pointed at him. Zackery sighed and didn't even try to explain when Olivia walked out with red eyes.

"Listen, we were kind enough to let you muddle around, but now you want to say that my daughter is a bitch? If you think my kindness is unlimited, th-" His stepmother didn't get to finish.

"Kindess? Do you understand how I've lived the past three years? You haven't once showed an ounce of kindness. And as for her? I lost track of how many boyfriends she's had, don't blame me for her choices!" Zackery retorted with a bitter tone.

"Do you think you can talk to your mother that way?!" His father approached him and wanted to slap his face, but Zackery stepped back and sneered.

"Mother? That is a mother? Sure, maybe that witch can be her mother, but she isn't mine. You want to hit me for defending myself? Tell me, are you not a simp?" Zackery didn't hold his tongue at all.

"Do you think I'll let you sleep under my roof with your disrespect?!" Camille yelled at Zackery who gave her a look reserved for the mentally unsound.

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"Disrespect? I only said what I thought. You treat me like trash, and I can't say it? I must endure it and thank you?! No fucking thanks!" Zackery spat and dropped his bag and walked off.

"Zackery!" Hearing his father angry voice, he didn't even turn. Forget calling that simp of a man a father, he wondered if he was even a man at all.

...

Night fell, and his stomach was empty. His bruises were hurting as well, and with nowhere to go, he sat down on the log he sat on the night before and looked at the gradually appearing stars.

"What a joke. Family? More like prison wardens." He chuckled bitterly and closed his eyes. Before he could stop himself, he fell into a light sleep.

When he opened his eyes, he felt something warm on his lap and saw a fluffy black cat on his lap, amber eyes staring at his face with an weird look.

"It's fine." He patted the cat's head and hugged it to himself, taking care not to aggravate his wounds. The cool night's air alleviated some of the discomfort he felt though.

"What?" The cat's eyes didn't leave his face, and he tapped its nose with a slightly pained smile. The cat placed a paw on his chest lightly and stared at him.

The cat looked up and following it, he saw a streak falling across the starry skies again, brighter than last night's. He smiled and rubbed the cat's head.

"A wish? Well, I wish I had an actual family, not that fake one I have now." Zackery smiled and kneaded the cat's paw and looked back up, not noticing the joy in the cat's eyes.

"I think you're quite the lucky cat. They say black cats aren't lucky, but I've seen two shooting stars with you." Zackery smile widened and winced when his cheek ached.

"Hello again." A voice sounded and Zackery saw the woman from last night walk over holding a bag. When she saw Zackery, she greeted him politely.

"Hey..." Zackery realized he didn't get her name, and seeing his awkward face, the woman smiled beautifully and held out her hand to shake his.

"Yavia." Yavia shook his hands and Zackery introduced himself. When she stepped back, she fished in her bag and handed Zackery a water bottle.

"It's an extra." Yavia said and smiled when Zackery drank it. When Zackery drank half the bottle, he closed it and set it aside, rubbing the cat's silky soft fur.

"Zackery, what will you do?" At first, Zackery thought Yavia spoke, but he realized her mouth didn't move and she still wore a small smile, and the voice came from below.

Looking down, Zackery locked eyes with the black cat on his lap and stared into it's bright silvery eyes. As if sensing his doubt, the cat gently leaped down from his lap and a flash illuminated the area.

A woman with long pointed ears and silvery hair and eyes stared at him. Her beauty was so overwhelming, he stared lost in thought and then regained himself.

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