or he'll bite

We've been here forever
And here's the frozen proof
I could scream forever
We are the poisoned youth

Long before Polluted came to live in the mansion, he lived in the streets. From alleys to dilapidated buildings with a multitude of holes in the roof. He was mangy and riddled with fleas. Everyone that passed would do so quickly and with a hand over their noses.

As time went on, he started to change. Most of his fur changed white while the tuft of fur that grew at the tip of his tail and his bushy mane that grew along his spine turned black and bled out green at the tips, like he was being poisoned. Scales grew along his underbelly while sharp, black spikes lined his spine. That wasn't the end of it either. Black glistening horns sprouted from his skull and curled at the sides of his head. He lost his eye sight in the end, not that it was all that great in the first place, so a bandage was placed over his now non-existent eyes.

If people avoided him to begin with, then they outright stayed away from him now. He looked hellish, and poisoned.

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

The unknown voice drew Polluted's thoughts from his meal, a stray cat that wandered too close. His lips curled back, showing off sharp fangs and a pointed, green tongue.

Polluted could smell and taste the woman in the air. She had a not clean smell, just like him. So maybe that's why he let her approach him and run her hand under his bloody maw.

"How would you like to come home with me, hm?" she purred. "I could use a new guard dog." This made him snarl again, ready to pull back and snap at the offending hand. But the hand was already moving back only to give him a gentle stroke against the bridge of his snout. He was instantly calmed from the movement.

What the hell was she.

profile art by Akita
profile by User not found: sentinel
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story by me