Hero

“How?” I questioned in response to his. “How did you do it? That fish… he was dead!” I exclaimed, half in amazement, half in anger. No, I didn’t want the fish to die; yet, Christ had caused me so many problems, or at least been at fault for most of my recent beatings.

“I didn’t do anything. He must have been in extreme shock or something. I just stuck him back in the water, and he started swimming again,” Jesse lied. I raised a brow in annoyance.

“Uh, no, you didn’t just stick him back in the water. If you can pull miracles out of your ass like that, why not use it for cancer patients or the starved?” I suggested. It’s what Christ and the non-fish Christ would want too, right?

“Though I can’t pull miracles out of my ass, I do use them for cancer patients,” he replied, and it sounded like an odd metaphor.

“Is that supposed to–”

“Merow.”

I swiveled around to find a tiny black cat following us. I bent down to scratch him (or her; heck, I wasn’t sure if Christ was a ‘her’) under the chin. It purred and rubbed up under my fingertips without me moving them. Jesse bent down and held his hand out for it.

When I studied closely, Jesse and the cat seemed so similar. His eyes were olive and his hair was short and black. The cat had a lighter shade of green eyes and its hair was certainly not long and fluffy.

“What, are you two related?” I asked sarcastically. Jesse shook his head.

“No, I’ve never had a cat in my life,” he sighed. “Are you going to take it home with you?” He suggested.

“Should I? I don’t have any cat food… except tuna,” I muttered. I had let Jesse think I forgot about Christ, when honestly, I couldn’t get my mind off of it. At all. Parts of me wanted to beg him to bring my mother back to life. Parts of me actually believed that he could. How ridiculous.

“If you find out you can’t handle it, you can throw it in my backyard,” Jesse responded.

“That sounds mean!” I whined.

“Cats always land on their feet,” he reassured me.

“Whatever. What about my fish? What if it kills them?” I asked. I don’t think Christ was up for dying again, especially not at the hands- er, paws of a cat.

“Don’t you have a top on the tank?” He replied.

“Uh, well, it’s always kinda open. That’s how the fish died in the first place…” I trailed off before picking up the cat and continuing walking with Jesse. It didn’t struggle as it lolled in my hands.

“Would you like to stay at my house tonight?” Jesse offered. What? Was he referring to my father?

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Your hand–”

“Stay out of our business!” I replied defensively and quickly, and sprinted to my house to get away from him. I was sure that people in this town knew about my father; but they didn’t do anything and I didn’t want them to.

“Here, and don’t eat my fish, at least not Christ,” I told Kat, setting some tuna on a dish in front of him/her. Yes, Kat. I obviously wasn’t good with names. I sat in front of the fish tank and stared dreadfully at them.

Christ was floating, staring out the glass. Maybe it was every fish’s dream to live in the ocean or something. Maybe it was like fish heaven. I figured out that was the reason people flush their fish, especially the gold ones; and I was going to bury him. Oh, jeez.

I held Kat in front of the glass so he/she could take a good look at the food he/she can’t eat. Maybe it was torture, but he/she didn’t seem to care. Unfortunately, that night, Kat still ended up getting tortured, and so did I.

“Damnit!” My father cursed. He stomped to the closet and pulled out a stapler and came at me with it. “I stapled myself today! Do you even know what it feels like?”

“No,” I whimpered and he stapled one on my arms. I screamed as he kept stapling me where ever he could but I wasn’t truly devastated until he chased the cat.

“Come here!” He growled and picked Kat up, stapling its stomach.

“No, stop!” I cried and Kat screamed, scratching my father to get out of his hands. He turned to me with the long cut bleeding on his arm.

“Look at what you did! Look at what you caused! This is your fault!” He shouted at me, reaching for a knife and grabbing my arm. “Now you’re gonna feel what you brought upon me and yourself!” With that, he pressed the knife to my skin and pulled down towards my hand. I screeched at the pain.

“…I do use them for cancer patients…”

I’m not sure if I could describe a night picking staples out of your body and ruining some of your shirts that you used in place of gauze. I sobbed and prayed Kat was safe and hidden and Christ was going about his fish duties too much to have acknowledged what had happened.