{ kitten paws } pascal

The snow outside is the only reason I’m alright with staying inside. It doesn’t take a brainy idiot to know that I do not like the freezing weather: I’ve already got two jackets on and I’m about ready to just knit myself a fucking scarf if I can’t get this damn fire going in the fireplace.

I strike the match against the box and swear loudly when the little stick breaks. In a spurt of anger I hastily throw the broken match at the logs and yank out another, swiping it forcefully and breaking it again. A longer and more colorful string of curses pass my lips and I go through about four more matches before one successfully catches on fire. Quickly I stick it right to the tinder underneath, waiting for the embers to light the material before I gently blow, kindling it until small flames start coming to life and dancing around. I sit very close to the fire, eagerly waiting for it to become larger and heat the surrounding air, and I swear it can’t come fast enough. I’m damn near shivering by the time the fire starts eating at the logs and I scoot just a little bit closer, nearly to the point where my clothes could very well catch on fire.

It’s oddly quiet in the house and I assume it’s because everyone is still tucked away in their warm bed. I would be too if I hadn’t become so accustomed to being woken up by Teddy’s howling and crying in the night and early morning. My gaze turns from the fire to the makeshift crib I made for him. He’s with Vicky right now and she knows very well that I’d sooner gnaw off my own foot than venture out into the snow or cold, so she’s stuck with him until the weather turns warmer. I do miss him, though; I wish he were here with me. I wish I could just go over to the crib and pick him up, play around with him and his giraffe, make him giggle in that hysterical way that you cannot help but smile at. I also miss those big eyes of his and the soft tufts of hair that I’d pet occasionally and twirl around. Perhaps Vicky will get tired and sick of him and she’ll face the snow to bring him here.

I bring my knees up to my chest and try to make myself as small as possible all huddled up near the warmth. Some company would probably be nice but I don’t care enough to leave my spot. My siblings and I care for each other a lot but I, like a lot of them, probably, would rather not leave a warm bed to go sit and talk with someone. Maybe they won’t want to because it’s me and not one of our “normal,” semi-sane siblings. The thought is enough to make me burrow my head against my knees, hiding my face from the outside world.

Bear Keeni. An awful stigma has become attached to my name.

It’s something that I’ve thought about a lot involving Teddy. One day he’s going to grow up and discover all of these disgusting things I’ve done – what’s he going to think of me then? Will I be revolting and suddenly he be ashamed of me? Will he slice his arm and drain the Keeni blood in his veins? Will he refuse to hold onto the Keeni and only be known as a Barci? I fight back the stinging behind my eyes, but what use is it? Whatever he decides to label me as will stick with him throughout his life and all I will have is the memories of when I could hold and nurture him as a naïve little child.

I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose the one person that’s absolutely, entirely mine.