New project posted!

[Kell]

A thread I'm making to post the sections of my project in. It would be nice if Mods understood why I made this and didn't merge the two, and if people didn't post things here, and instead posted in the other thread, as I will be posting multiple story sections here over the following weeks.

Thanks :D

~Kell

[Kell]

   The bar was quiet, and the few patrons in the place that October Tuesday evening were sure not to bother a small woman, sitting alone at the bar. Normally, a shapely, young woman, dressed as she was in rather revealing clothing would have found peace rare in any bar, even on a quiet night. She, on the other hand, had little trouble being left along.

   One finger, half-broken nail painted red, circled the rim of her glass of cheap scotch. The hand attached to that finger shook visibly, one knuckle torn, bleeding only recently stopped, the rest of her knuckles bruised purple and swelling. Much like her wrist, and one of her eyes. Samantha, Sammie to her friends, had seen better nights. In fact, right at that moment, she could not begin to imagine a worse one.

   The day had been normal enough, work at the office, hellish traffic getting home, but the twenty two year old human had no problems out of the ordinary. No, it had been after dinner, while doing dishes and talking to her husband, that things had turned south.

   Lifting the glass to her lips, she finished off what was left in two burning swallows. How many was that so far? Four, five? She shrugged and set the glass down, waiting for the bartender to refill it. For his part, he couldn't bring himself to cut the woman off. She looked a mess, and was sitting quietly crying at one end of his bar, half of him felt horrible for selling to her when she clearly needed a friend, not a bottle.

   Was it so wrong of her to make one small, harmless remark about being attracted to some morphs? After six years of blissful wedlock, atop as many years dating before hand, she had never seen him act like that... Thinking about it brought fresh tears to her eyes, which quickly joined the growing puddle on the bar.

   One comment and he changed entirely. She knew he didn't like them, he was old fashioned, and from a well-off family. He had deeply held beliefs about his own superiority... but was that any reason for... for this? Yes, she was attracted to them... the same was she found some moviestars handsome, and thought her girlfriends looked good in nice dressed... There was nothing behind it, no plans and no cheating...

   He closed her eyes and felt another pair of tears roll down her cheeks. He had slapped her, grabbed her by the wrist and thrown her... Her face had hit the dishwasher, she thought her wrist must have dislocated and her had, covered with small cuts, had gone threw two wine glasses and a plate as she fell. Then he stormed off, told her she should clean up the mess, and stop fucking dogs.

   The bar tender set another glass down for her, but she just folded her arms on the bar and cried, having stumbled a block and a half here in a blind mixture of panic, rage, and confusion. She cried like she hadn't in years, from pain, and from heartbreak, and from anger. Until she felt a touch to her shoulder and looked up.


***

   Some Chakats were well known for their ability to sense others emotions, but even the least sensitive chakat alive would have felt hir heart tugged at by the small woman at the far end of the bar. Moontail had been seated beside a table with two friends, a male human and a female rabbit morph, enjoying a few drinks and relaxing after a long day, when shi saw the woman come in. Shi had wondered at first at her appearance, and over the next hour, caught glimpses of the woman a few times, sitting alone, clearly upset.

   When she put her face in her arms and cried, there was no more waiting and wondering. Shi stood slowly and smiled to hir friends, "I'll be right back." Shi said, and walked slowly over to the crying woman at the bar. The bar tender looked up from the paperback he was reading, and seemed keep an eye on what happened, but said nothing.

   A light tough was all it took to alert the crying woman to hir presence, with a surprised little gasp, the woman turned her head and looked up at hir. Moontail offered a smile, and rubbed her shoulder slowly. A soft, sweet voice left the chakat, gentle and comforting, along with a flood of good will and honesty, "Need somebody to talk to?"

***

   The evening slipped away, minute by minute. The pair had retreated to a small table away from the bar, the woman leaning against the table at times, or against her knew, soft-furred friend. The fact that Moontail was nude didn't seem that out of the ordinary, but Sammie did find that it made hir almost impossible to pull away from, that warm soft fur so comforting to the upset, drunk, hurt woman.

   She talked for hours, and Moontail listened, speaking now and then to add words of comfort and understanding. The story was told over and over, along with constant reassurances that he was a good man, a nice man. She tried once, to say she still loved him, and had to burry her face in Moontail's fur, crying against hir, "Why did he do this to me? Why would he..."

   The chakat held her close, softly stroking the heartbroken woman's hair, and shook hir head, "I cannot know... but your safe here, now..."

   Cups of coffee were drank, slowly she calmed, slowly she sobered up. After a long pause in the conversation, she turned back to Moontail and said, "Thank you... I... I don't even know your name, I have never seen you before in my life... why would you ruin your night to put up with a wretch like me?"

   "My name, Samantha, is Moontail, and I spent a few hours of my life comforting a beautiful, wonderful woman because she went threw something she did not deserve, and needed somebody, and because it made me happy to do so. What else was I to do, sit over there, drinking my drink and ignore your pain?" Hir paws rubbed the still upset woman's back, and she sighed, "The bar is closing... actually, I think it should have closed an hour ago and our friend behind the bar didn't say anything. You need to see a doctor for that wrist, and the police for yo"

   "No!" Samantha said sternly, "Not the police... He..."

   "He threw you across the room and hurt you... What if he does this again? Sammie..." Shi hugged the woman tightly and stood up, "I can't make you... but please... come with me to the station, tell them what happened... You don't have to press charges, but at least get it on record incase it happens again..."

   Nodding at last, she stood, still rather uneasy on her feet, and followed Moontail to the bar. She found it hard to focus on what was being said between the two, even if she heard every word, but she understood enough to realize Moontail was picking up her tab. She tried to stop hir, but couldn't find the words, and her arguments all seemed to come out as yawns.

   The next thing she remembered she was in the police station, recounting her story again to a very polite Vixen in a uniform, Moontail's arm around her shoulders. As she finished, she leaned her head against hir chest and the world around her faded out again, not to return till morning.

***

   When it became clear the poor woman wasn't going to wake up again any time soon, Moontail smiled shyly to the female officer, "You will be taking her home tonight, then?" The Vixen asked.

   Hir mouth opened to say yes, but she paused, then said, "I don't know if I should... I have a bed for her and its no problem... But I hardly know her."

   The Vixen, who had assumed the two were close friends, blinked, "Hardly know her?"

   "Yes, you see... I was at the bar, with a few friends, and I saw her doing her best to drink herself to death at the other side of the bar. I just couldn't stand it, and went over to talk to her... That was about six hours ago now... I guess I have only known her a little longer than you have... She told me her story, drank a pot of coffee and cried, I listened, and when she seemed calm enough, I payed our tabs and brought her here..."

   "I see..." She considered for a few moments, "You certainly did the right thing by bringing her here... I think I'll go have a chat with her husband before she decides in the morning if she wants to press charges..." Turning to a small computer built into the table top beside herself, the Vixen checked a few things, then continued, "If I were you, I would take this poor woman home... I can put her up in a motel, but you seem the type to help, and I suspect she will want somebody to talk to in the morning, and she will be sick to death to boot... I see no reason why I shouldn't assume she wanted you to take her home, and you never told me you only met her tonight."

   With that decided, it was only a short while later when the battered, bruised, and boozed Samantha was laying safely in the guest bed in Moontail's den, a warm blanket pulled over her, and a worried, watchful chakat only half asleep in the next room.

***

   The next morning seemed to last forever. A hangover is bad enough, but when its coupled with such horrible emotions as Sammie was putting up with that morning, happening mostly on your knees in a near-strangers bathroom, and half your face is swollen and sore, it was truly hell.

   Finally, after hours of being violently ill and depressed at the same time, her body had recovered enough to allow her to eat a late lunch, carefully, and face what she had to do that day. Her injuries it turned out, didn't need a doctors attention, and other than the swelling on her face, which was starting to go down, where none too bad. The pressing issue however, was her relationship.

   With the booze and shock clear from her mind, anger was most of what she felt. Sadness played its roll, as did a deep sense of betrayal, but she was mad. She never wanted to see him again, she never wanted to hear his name again, and she certainly never wanted to live with him again.

   The same Vixen they had talked to the night before went out of her way to come in and see them that afternoon. Charges would be pressed, Samantha was dead set on that, but soon, that all seemed trival.

   The young officer, the Vixen couldn't be more than twenty five. Had driven over to Samantha's home a few minutes after Moontail left with the sleeping Sammie. What she found made domestic abuse charges seem trivial. Her front door had been left open, the officer had assumed Samantha herself had left it open when she left that evening, but a look inside changed the Vixen's mind on that. Her husband was laying against a couch, eyes half lidded, out cold. In his veins was an almost lethal dose of a strong, highly controlled medication, a mood altering drug used to treat depression. In his pockets were enough controlled substances to fill a medicine cabnet. He was being held for several drug related charges, or would be, if he woke up again.

   The news left Sammie speechless. The man she had lived with for seven years, abusing drugs? She stared at the Vixen, and said little else as they filed some paperwork. A quick trip to her lawyer and the papers were filed for divorce. It seemed as if she had been gone only minutes when she sat back down in Moontails Kitchen, staring into space.

   It all just seemed like to much, more than she could hope to take in all at once. He life was utterly changed in twenty four hours. She realized, in an offhand way, that she hadn't been into work that day and had not even called her boss, it didn't seem worth worry at that moment. What would a lost job be but the icing on the cake?