Chapter Three: Instincts

A.N: Okay, so it has been SO long since I updated and I apologize for that. I just decided to post this since I haven’t posted anything in forever. There are no pictures yet but I will be updating this post soon. Hopefully everyone didn’t give up on me but I totally would understand if you guys did. Also I hope I didn’t regress a ton as a writer in the past year.  




The air in my lungs turned stale at the sound, anticipation gathering in my legs. Flight or fight was activated and my body was choosing the former.


“Windsor!” I cried as blue and red lights began spilling into the alley. I didn’t give him a chance to respond, opting to detain his hand in my own as my feet began to move. We weaved past garbage cans, narrowly dodging an officer as he rounded the corner.


“Stop right there!”  A quick glance showed that our pursuer had stopped to fumble with his holster. The alley ended into a wooden fence but there was no hesitation by either of us. Our hands left each others, legs instinctually bending before they propelled us upwards; towards freedom. Fingernails scratched against wood, frantically gripping as I pulled myself up and finally over the barrier that stood between myself and freedom.


The sound of our fall was punctuated by a gunshot, the bullet shattering a hole through the fence a few feet to my right. There were no words exchanged between Windsor and I, I had barely even glanced at him, before his callous hands wrapped around my forearm and we were moving again.


We moved liked snakes through the slums. Slittering our way down alleys and backstreets, we managed to race the flashing lights until the crunch of gravel beneath our feet drowned out the screeching of police cars It was only then, chests heaving, lungs burning, that we spoke, “Tacha… must have… thought we were…. done.”


I slumped against the brick wall behind me, sweat drenching my forehead, “Rosa,” Her name sounded pathetic on my lips, but it was all I could manage as my vision began to blur, “Rosa.”


“She’s fine,” Windsor’s soft voice drifted across the night like a cool breeze, “Rosa knows the plan.”


She did. We all did. When things went south we were to retreat – pull our hoods up and walk away. There was no point in being a martyr; dying accomplishes nothing, after all.


That did nothing to quell the unease that sloshed in my stomach, “What if they caught her first?”


Windsor’s blood red gaze held mine as he slowly closed the gap between us, wrapping me up in the warmth of his red skin, “Impossible.” His dark locks brushed against my forehead just enough to tickle.


My hands raised, resting against his chest. I allowed myself to fade into his presence for a moment before pushing gently, regaining my composure, “Don’t matter.” I mumbled. And it didn’t. Worrying about Rosa wouldn’t make her safe. I couldn’t change what had or had not happened to her. I could change what happened to me, however.


Straightening my shoulders, I gestured to surroundings. While back alleys didn’t change much – rich or poor, they tended to be littered with garbage – the buildings surrounding us were in much better condition than the slums. “Do you know where we are?”


“We’re on the border.”


I nodded. The buildings weren’t grand – no stained glass or marble architecture – but they were in good shape, fresh paint. I should have known.


The border was middle class – Mutts were hardly ever seen here. The rich owned us as slaves, property to use as they saw fit. The slums is where we hid, desperately hiding from police, hunters and pure-breds. The middle class, for the most part, were far too poor to own us but entitled enough to hate us.


“We should keep our heads low.” Our pace was brisk but not hurried – should someone see us we didn’t want to attract unwanted attention. Luckily, the sun was just beginning to pierce the night. Most ‘Bows were in bed, sleeping peacefully, and not transversing the city streets. The gentle hum of electricity was accompanied by melodic chirping of birds, only broken by the occasional grinding of rubber against asphalt.


I relished in the sounds; in the cool morning air against my dark skin. Moments like these were few and far between. Moments where I could enjoy the small things in life, even if they came while I was being pursued. Then again, when wasn’t I being pursued? My whole life was a game of cat and mouse.


“Help!” My musing were ended abruptly, replaced by the tense muscles I had become so accustomed to supporting. The plea came from a back street that intersected with our own a few feet ahead. Two other voices – gruff, demanding – echoed out after fear laced cry. Threats. Taunts. Hatred.


I approached the intersection with the intention of ignoring it. ‘Bows and Mutts were hurt and killed everyday. It was none of my business. This city was the embodiment of survival of the fittest and the prey in that alley wasn’t cut out to survive. Windsor had already done just that – not even glancing at the crime taking place.


That was my mistake.


I spared the briefest of glances, just long enough to sate my curiosity, but long enough for pale pinks to meet my own.


I froze.


Those eyes. I knew them. Pain flared up, fire eating away at my temples, as fog coated the memory those eyes dredged up. My battered knees scraped the concrete as my fingers intertwined into my hair in a desperate attempt to ease the fire licking it’s way through my skull.


“What the heck is wrong with you?” The voice was husky, heavy, as it breathed over me. My jaw clenched as I pried my eyes open to take in the looming form. Male, slightly over-weight and a Mutt. Through the first Mutt’s legs I could see another, this one using his knees to keep a pink pure-bred pinned against the trash laden ground.


My hands dislodged from my hair as I pushed past the resounding pain. In one swift movement I was balancing on my palms, legs swinging out from under me as they swept the offending voice into the air. I heard the air hiss through his teeth as he violently crashed down. I was on top of him before he even had time to refill his lungs with oxygen. My fists tangled into his unwashed hair, grease coating my fingertips, as I yanked his head forward and slammed it back down.


The crack was sickening.


I was back on my feet before the second Mutt had even registered what had just transpired. His eyes were wide, confused, shocked, “But, you’re one of us.”


“I am not one of ya,” The loathing dripped from my words, “Ya are no better than the scum ya hate. Two grown men hurting a young boy. You’re a freakin’ disgrace. Get out of here before I beat the snot out of ya.”


The man slowly rose to his feet, hands raised in an effort to show that his ill-intentioned actions were over, “Now.” I growled, eyebrows furrowed at his snail like pace. He needed no other prompting as he scrambled down the road, disappearing into the early morning.


Instinct is a funny thing. Those two men were my kin – they knew the pain I endured because they themselves had gone through it. Every Mutt living in Starburst Shores knew it. And yet the fear present in those young pink eyes fueled my actions.
I sighed, not daring to make eye contact with those pink orbs again. Instead I turned on my heels, stepped over the limp body that separated me from my exit, and swore not to look back.


A.N: Oh, if you guys hate me updating without pictures I’ll cease to do so, by the way. I just thought I’d give you a little something instead of nothing since my SIMS computer is at my mother’s house and I don’t live there anymore, thus making picture taking a once a week (if I’m lucky) type of deal.