Lost Creek Hollow I Am the Once, Now Irreplaceable Son

Why was he so angry?
 
Because he was out there—wherever the fuck there was—and not back home.
 
Because he had been out there for over the past two weeks, all because the hag he knew only as his mother thought he needed a reality check, whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean, and had told him to get the fuck out of her territory until he got his head out of his ass.
 
(Her territory. Like he wasn’t as entitled to it as she was, because the damn bitch had given birth to him, and wasn’t that how packs worked?)
 
But mostly? Mostly, he was so angry because strangers like her, strangers that were no doubt beyond useless in the long run and just hadn’t realized it yet, hadn’t realized just how little their lives mattered to him, with their pleasantries and oddities, wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone.
 
It was like everyday there was a new pile of bullshit being pushed onto him.
 
But saying all that felt like a little too much like having emotions, having feelings, and they weren’t friends. He didn’t have friends. He didn’t need friends. And the red bitch before him was no exception to that rule.
 
He took a single step forward, stance low.
 
“Because,” he started, painfully slowly, the word carefully enunciated from between clenched teeth, his ears pressed back against his head and his tail rigid and stiff behind him, words chosen like he was speaking to a very small (or very dumb) child, “You won’t leave me the fuck alone.”