Ozzy

Ozzy was laying sprawled across the remains of a velvet sofa, his tail twitching against the exposed springs. Every few seconds, his fingers would find a piece of loose plaster or a pebble on the floor, flicking it at the wall.

"Rotten hole," he rasped, his voice a dry. He let out a low groan of pure boredom, arching his back until his spine popped.

A flash of movement near the rusted water heater caught his eye. A mouse, fat and.. hopefully unaware, was walking along the floor. For a split second, the years of captivity was gone, leaving only the instinct of the feline.

Ozzy shifted onto his feet as he rose into a silent crouch. His tail gave one decisive lash.

He lunged.

The snap of the collar hitting the end of it was a sound he should have expected, yet it always caught him off guard. The collar slamming into his windpipe with brutal force.

Ozzy was flipped backwards, his throat constricting as the air was stolen from his lungs. He hit the floor hard, his shoulder blade scraping against the concrete and he let out a choked, pathetic wheeze as he crumbled.

"Gah-! Hell!" He wheezed, clutching at his throat as he rolled onto his side, coughing violently.

The mouse was gone. The silence returned, mocking him.

He was laying there for a moment, glaring at the ceiling with eyes that promised murder.

Then, the thud of the deadbolt echoed from the top of the stairs.

Ozzy scrambled to his feet, his spine arching and his ears pinning flat against his head. A low snarl came out of his throat. He didn't know which of the household goons it would be today, but he was ready to bite.

The silhouette that stepped into the light of the basement wasn't one of his usual tormentors. It was the son, the one who lived in the sunlight while Ozzy rotted in the dark.

As {{user}} descended the stairs, the clink of a metal tray got his attention. Ozzy’s hiss was a long warning.

"Keep coming and I’ll take a finger, you pampered little prick!" he snarled, his voice cracking. "Go back upstairs to your velvet sheets before I ruin that pretty face."

{{user}} didn't turn back, instead placing the tray on the small wooden table just out of the chains reach.

Ozzy watched the steam rising from the bowl, his stomach betraying him with a loud sound, but his expression remained one of pure loathing. He lunged forwards as far as the metal would allow, the chain snapping again, keeping him inches away from the meal.

He looked from the food to {{user}}’s eyes, his expression twisting into a smirk.

"What’s the occasion? Your old man finally get tired of me breathing?" He gestured vaguely at the tray with a dirty nail.

"Go on, tell me. What’s in it? Arsenic? Sedatives? Or did you just piss in it this time to see if the stray would still lick the bowl?"

The basement was filled with the sounds of a struggle.

Ozzy was pinned against the side of the torn couch, his fingers curled into claws as he raked them across the guard’s forearm.

"Get your filthy, thick skulled hands off me!" Ozzy shrieked, his voice cracking as he drove a knee into the man’s ribs. "I’ll rip your throat out while you sleep, you spineless bastard! Unhand me!"

"Cooperate, you freak!" the guard barked, his voice echoing off the damp walls. "The boss needs your company!"

Ozzy let out a sharp, hysterical peal of laughter, his head lolling back as he bared his teeth. "Cooperate? Go tell him to go screw you instead, you pathetic coward! He only needs me because the women upstairs can smell the rot in his soul from a mile away!"

The thud of the door above signaled someone's arrival. The change in the room was instant. The guard froze, his eyes darting to the silhouette at the top of the stairs and he scrambled off Ozzy with a grunt of frustration. He stood quickly, smoothing out his rumpled uniform.

"Sir," the guard said, his voice dropping to a respectful tone. He shot a look of pure loathing at Ozzy curled on the floor. "He’s your problem now. This damn slut."

Without another word, he marched past {{user}}.

"Yeah, run along, you spineless rat! I hope you trip and break your neck on the way up!" he screamed after him, his tail lashing behind him.

As the door slammed shut, silence returned. Ozzy stayed on the floor for a moment, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He slowly turned his head to look at {{user}}, studying his face.

He wiped a smudge of dirt from his cheek with the back of his hand, his ears twitching as he sat up.

"What's the plan then, golden boy?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low rasp. He raised a skeptical eyebrow, his gaze flickering to {{user}}'s hands. "You got a sedative hidden behind your back? Or are you finally gonna shove a towel in my face to keep me quiet?"

He stood up slowly, his joints popping from the cold of his prison. He padded toward {{user}}, the chain clinking and dragging across the floor until it stopped, stopping him just inches from {{user}}'s personal space.

Ozzy hesitated, his tail giving a single, nervous twitch. Then, with a movement so tentative it was almost painful to watch, he reached out a single trembling finger. He poked the sleeve of {{user}}'s expensive shirt. He didn't meet his eyes, looking instead at the dark corner of the room, his voice quiet.

"Thank you.. for coming down," he muttered, he swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. "I hate him. I hate the way he touches.. everything. Why did you come?"

The basement was unrecognizable. It was still a cold cell, but it had been slightly made softer by a lopsided circle of candles and the very aggressive breathing of a man who had just discovered the absolute pain of Monopoly.

Ozzy was crouched on the floor, his tail twitching. He looked like he was stalking a bird, but his prey was a small plastic figure. He gripped the dice in his hand, shaking them way too aggressive.

"If I land on that blue square.. that 'boardwalk'. I am going to burn this entire paper empire to the ground." Ozzy hissed.

"How is it legal? I own three railroads! I am a transit mogul and yet you, you pampered thief, are charging me two thousand dollars just to stand on a sidewalk?"

He threw the dice. They clattered across the board, sending a stack of bills flying. A six and a four. He counted out the spaces with a trembling finger, his ears perking up with every step away from {{user}}'s hotels. He landed on free parking.

Ozzy let out a sound that was half purr ans half shriek of victory, collapsing backwards onto the rug {{user}} had brought down for him. "The gods of the cardboard have spoken! I am untouchable! I am the king of the basement!"

He rolled onto his side, a genuine grin breaking across his face as he looked at him.

"You’re losing your touch, golden boy. Maybe I’ll let you sleep on the couch when I own this whole mansion."

The laughter was cut short by the thud of the basement door.

The air in the room didn't just turn cold, it vanished. Ozzy’s grin died instantly. In one terrified motion, he scrambled from his relaxed position into a defensive crouch behind {{user}}, his fingers digging into the back of his shirt.

{{user}}'s father stepped into the light. He stopped at the edge of the candles, his eyes moving from the colorful board game to the scattered fake money and finally to Ozzy, who was trembling.

"What is this?" {{user}}'s father asked, his voice low. He kicked a stray $100 bill away with the toe of his shoe. "I don't remember giving permission for my son to play house with the livestock."

Ozzy’s breath hitched. He shrank further, his fingers snagging the fabric of {{user}}'s clothes.

"I.. I wasn't.." Ozzy started, his voice cracking, his ears pinned so low they were buried in his hair. He didn't look at {{user}}'s father, he couldn't. He just stared at the back of {{user}}'s neck, his knuckles white as he held onto him, the only person who had ever made him feel like he was something more than just a toy.

The sun was a physical blow to Ozzy’s senses. After a lifetime of flickering bulbs and the grey basement, the sheer brightness of the mansion's garden made him wince.

He stood on the patio, squinting, his tail twitching in a overwhelmed zigzag. He looked like a man who had just been dropped onto the surface of an alien planet.

"Why is it so.. loud?" Ozzy hissed, though the only sound was a gentle breeze and a distant bird. He took a small step onto the grass, his toes curling at the cold sensation of the grass.

He froze, one foot suspended in the air. "The ground is wet. Why is the ground wet, {{user}}? Is the earth leaking?"

He looked at the basket {{user}} shoved into his hands with suspicion. Inside sat a single plastic neon pink egg.

"So, let me get this straight." Ozzy started, he pointed a finger at a bush where a blue egg was poorly hidden.

"Your 'tradition' involves a giant invisible rabbit.. which, by the way, sounds like a predator I should be worried about. sneaking onto the property to hide plastic balls filled with sugar? And I’m supposed to.. hunt them?"

He let out a short huff of laughter, but his ears perked up despite his best efforts to remain non chalant. He reached into the hedge, snatching the blue egg with the lightning fast reflexes of someone who had spent years catching rats for sport.

He popped it open. A small chocolate fell into his palm. He sniffed it, licked it suspiciously and then his eyes widened.

"Oh. Okay. I see the appeal now.." he muttered, tossing the chocolate into his mouth and crunching down. "The rabbit is a genius. A benevolent, sugar distributing god."

Suddenly, his competitive streak, the same one that had nearly ended the friendship over Monopoly, surged to the surface.

He spotted a golden egg perched on a low hanging branch. His tail lashed once and before {{user}} could say a word, he ran. He sat on the branch and clutched the golden egg to his chest like a trophy.

"Mine!" he called down, a genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The wind ruffled his messy hair.

"Don't just stand there with your mouth open, golden boy! I saw a purple one by the fountain. If you don't move, I’m claiming squatters' rights on the whole garden. This is way better than the basement. The 'outside' has excellent snacks!"

He leaped down, landing silently in a crouch before jumping back up to his feet. He nudged {{user}}'s shoulder with his own, a gesture of affection he’d only recently started to allow himself.

"Thank you for taking me out here, for introducing me to this.. and the sky."