Chapter 4

Harry's POV

I toughed out that fever on my own for three straight days. Nobody cared if I took medicine or how badly I coughed through the night.

Dad's entire energy was focused on planning Gary's fourth birthday party. Not only had he rented out a pet restaurant, but he had also invited several wealthy friends who were fellow cat owners.

That day happened to be the awards ceremony for our school's parent-child art competition.

With hands covered in chilblains, I had drawn a picture titled "My Family".

In the drawing were Mom, Dad, Garrett, and me. The four of us stood under the sun, smiling happily.

I didn't draw the cat.

To me, Garrett would always be the boy who held my hand and bought me cotton candy, not this cat that constantly tormented me.

The drawing won first prize. The teacher said a parent needed to come to school today so we could collect the award together.

Full of hope, I ran home with the award notice, eager to share the good news with Dad. Maybe seeing how I drew Garrett would help him clear his head and win me a bit of praise.

When I opened the door, Dad was fitting a ridiculously luxurious, custom-tailored cat suit onto Gary.

"Dad!" I ran over excitedly, holding up the notice. "My drawing won first prize! The teacher said parents need to come to school this afternoon—"

Dad cut me off impatiently. "Harry, today is your brother's birthday. I'm taking him to the restaurant."

I froze, my arm held high until it went numb. "B-But I drew Garrett. I drew all four of us. The teacher said a parent has to go…"

My voice grew quieter, turning into a desperate plea.

Irritated, Dad snatched the notice away, gave it a brief glance, then crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the trash.

"Harry, isn't having our family right here together better than some drawing? Why can't you care about living people instead of a piece of paper?"

Those words hit me like a sledgehammer.

Yeah, why didn't he care about his real, living son instead of a cat?

The grievances, fear, hunger, and resentment built up over all this time completely exploded in that moment.

I snapped my head up and stared dead at Dad. My chest heaved violently as tears burst out.

I mustered up every bit of courage I had in my entire life and screamed at the top of my lungs, "Why? Garrett and I used to do everything together! Why does this cat get everything now? He's just a cat! I am your son!"

A dead silence fell over the living room.

Dad froze, clearly not expecting his usually submissive son to talk back.

The next second, his face turned pale, and tears welled up in his eyes. He strode over, grabbed my collar, and slammed me hard to the floor. "Harry Johnston! Don't you dare talk about your brother like that!"

He pointed right at my face, roaring hysterically, "Do you have any idea how hard he had to fight just to come back to me? He's just a cat right now! He can't do anything for himself! Why do you keep fighting with him?"

A suffocating pain shot through my neck, leaving me barely able to breathe.

Looking at Dad's hysterical face, I suddenly stopped struggling. Tears fell silently.

He dragged me like a sack of potatoes, yanking me by my clothes all the way out the front door.

"Get out! Get the hell out! If you can't accept Gary, then you don't belong in this house!"

I was thrown heavily onto the freezing concrete, and the heavy security door slammed shut in my face.

Outside, it was the dead of winter, with temperatures dropping to 23 degrees Fahrenheit. Biting snow began to fall from the sky.

I wore only a thin school uniform, with not even socks on my feet.

I didn't bang on the door, nor did I beg for mercy. I just numbly pushed myself up, walked over to the corner of the stairwell, and curled into a tiny ball.

It was so cold. So cold my bones ached.

My vision began to blur, and my body shivered uncontrollably. Consciousness slowly slipped away, and the world before my eyes went dark.