~ TWISTEDKIT OF WINDCLAN ~
Brightkit's voice broke through Twistedkit's shattered world, but it did not cure it, nor did it help. She was vaguely aware of her foster sister sniffing her over. Was she checking to see if something was wrong with her?
Something is wrong with me. Willowsky's words repeated in her head, drowning everything else out, and the sobs kept wracking her small body as more and more tears - so many tears, surprising for one so small - kept falling down her face and leeching into the soft nest beneath her. Her chin was soaked with saltwater, and her throat was clogged with pain and emotion so strong for such a young kit, a kit who was barely halfway to her apprenticeship.
Are you alright? Brightkit's question registered, and the answer was no. Twistedkit was not okay. She was not good, either. She was horrible. She was vile. A monster. A murderer. She'd hurt Willowsky and her brother and her father. She'd hurt her
entire family. And it was all because she'd been born bad, born differently from the rest of her Clanmates.
It's all my fault.
Why should Brightkit care about such a naughty, horrible kit? Why should
anyone care? Twistedkit didn't deserve to be loved. She deserved to be hated and cast out because of what she'd done. Yet the thought scared her. She didn't want to be alone. She wanted to be curled in her nest with Willowsky in the nursery, excited to grow up and become a warrior. However, everything was different.
I don't deserve anything. I don't deserve to be loved. Why did the others like me if I was so naughty? Twistedkit glanced up at Brightkit with her good eye and managed to choke out,
"No. I'm horrible. I'm naughty. You don't deserve to be with me. Nobody deserves to be near me." Her voice was horrible and hard to distinguish, but it was audible enough. The words pained her - she didn't want to lose her closeness with Brightkit - but she'd be even worse if she tried to hide the truth.
Willowsky hates me, and she should. Everyone should.
"I'm... I'm..." Her voice shook, and she didn't know how she could go on. But the words burst out, strangled and high-pitched and awful-sounding.
"I'm a murderer! I'm ugly and vile and disgusting and different, and I-I killed my brother and father, and, and, I got Willowsky into trouble, and I was naughty and didn't listen. Everything is my fault!" Her words broke into even harder sobbing. It was hard for her to produce more tears, so she just continued making a choked sound in her throat as she trembled, weak, exhausted, horrified, sad, and full of emotions that one her age should not be feeling.
@
Rabbiteye