--James, Black Vehicle--

  When did this all began? I had thought this line a few passing times, in a sense of denial kind of way. I was trying to play the hapless victim in my head, not understanding the how, when or why of the situation at hand. But it was only denial, I knew. I just didn't think that I would be transferred into a new, unknown environment due to my actions.

  I was currently in a vehicle with padded, black seats. I don't really know automobile very well, but I do know that these bulky vehicles with men wearing overly formal attire were all apart of the government. I have heard quite a few rumors involving these types of people, but I had assumed they were either baseless rumors, or they would be uninterested in someone like me.

  When they first came to pick me up, I admit I was a little apprehensive with joining them. I actually tried to pick a fight with them until they held a tranquilizer to my person. It must have been funny to a third party onlooker, seeing a rough guy being rather unruly only to become extremely docile and accommodating the very next moment.

  Thankfully they only limited their actions to threats of using excessive force if I showed noncompliance. Still, after my nerves settled, and being cooped up in the cabin next to them, I tried talking to them to see if I could glean some information, to no avail. The scenery kept passing by, we seemed to never stop moving, even passed by a few cities and towns. How long have we been driving?

  It's not like the people who abducted me acted like statues, they just ignored my existence. One of the men had his phone out constantly, occasionally flicking his thumb upward. Hold on, is that...? I caught a glimpse in the reflection in the window as the darkening skies made seeing the inner reflections easier to see. He was reading a book online, the details of which I cannot discern.

  After I had exhausted all of which I could interact with within the cabin, I turned my gaze outward. Still not sufficiently entertaining but it was soothing enough looking at all the passing silhouettes of trees and buildings pass by to let my mind wander.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  I think back to my childhood, I spent most of my time in the orphanage. I don't really remember my family before then. I was told that they had died in an accident. When I was transferred over to the orphanage, everyone treated me like family. After a few years of staying in St. Jermaine's Orphanage, I had taken on the task of daily chores and role model for the smaller, newer orphans. I remember the times when running through the field with five of them chasing me and vice versa. Tiger Hunts we called it; sometimes I hunted them, sometimes they hunted me. Now that I am a little older, looking back, that wasn't a very morally wholesome game.

  I think it all started when the younger kids that I played with mistook the stripes on my tail for that of a Tiger-kin. It was an unspoken rule in the orphanage to ask about each other's race, besides you could generally tell by the tails and ears. I remember acting haughty of this and acted a little more aggressive. I think at one point, I had one of the caretakers convinced. How embarrassing.

  Embarrassing as the memories maybe,they were still some of my most precious memories. I think I even fooled myself for the longest while, but Tiger-kin ears are different than mine. I have forgotten what my original race was to begin with. Tabby-kin? Lynx-kin? Doesn't matter. For all I know, I could be a mixed breed. But putting these thoughts and insecurities behind me was something I was good at, despite them cropping back from time to time. I dedicated myself to this identity, one of which got me into a few scraps to say the least.

  Remembering the fights from the early days, I remember losing a lot of them, then with sharpening my skills, I got really good, really fast. But before I knew it, no one was fighting any more, I was even called feral by a teacher at one point. I think that was right as I entered High School. Despite being an all boys school, no fights took place because of the looming reality that was closing in. I had to adapt or die. Or so it felt.

  I studied my tail off, where it hardly mattered previously, just to pass these tests to better adapt to the civilized society that was adulthood. My ending score on the final test was good enough to get me into a few colleges of some renown, but mostly local colleges were available. That was fine by me.

  I didn't really have time to think about a Major. After the graduation ceremony we had little time to actually rest as we would have to either enter the workforce or go to college the following semester. Then again people with actually families could go back to those while they took their time.

  I couldn't return to the orphanage to live but I did go back to celebrate and say goodbye, which I got to do before these fine men in black came. Which brings me back to my current predicament. With the graduation ceremony, the celebration, the tear jerking goodbye and then the abduction, it's no wonder my eyelids are heavy. Stifling a yawn, I noticed that the silhouettes were harder to see now that it had gotten really dark, but my thoughts wandered some more.

  What does my future look like?