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People didn’t like things they couldn’t explain. They didn’t like things they couldn’t put a name on, things that seemed out of the ordinary, things that were strange. They liked to have a sense of “normal,” even though that didn’t actually exist. It wasn’t real, but they clung to it like a lifeline.
He supposed he did the same.
His tail was not normal, and it was strange and out of the ordinary and something nobody, not even himself, could explain. So, they got angry.
It wasn’t always obvious. In fact, most of the time, it was well hidden, fake kindness layered over disgust and hatred.
He didn’t blame them. They just weren’t used to it. He was weird, and he knew that. He was an anomaly.
He hated it too.
And then he woke up one morning feeling a sense of wrongness and dread, like something bad was going to happen. He thought nothing of it. Probably just anxiety again, or something. The day went well, until it didn’t.
He was at a gas station, trying to buy himself some food when he accidentally knocked his tail against some lady’s arm.
“Watch it, kid- wh.”
He stiffened, quickly turning to face her. “So sorry about that, ma’am-”
She held a hand up to stop him, eyeing the handful of granola bars he was holding. “Young man, are you planning on stealing those?”
“N-no, of course not-”
“Oh, don’t lie to me, sweetie. Just put the stuff back. And-” she grimaced, as if she had just thought of something disgusting- “maybe do something about that strange tail of yours.”
Maybe he should. Maybe he would.
He shrugged it off and went on with his day. He got comments like that all the time. It wasn’t anything new.
And then he bumped into a kid his age.
“Fuckin- watch where you’re fuckin going, man!”
“Sorry, sorry.”
The kid looked him over, making a very weird face. “Eugh. What kind of hybrid are you?”
“Enderman-”
“Enderman? What kind of enderman has a tail?”
He quickly moved his tail behind his back.
“Don’t hide it, I wanna see.”
Hesitantly, he stuck it out towards the kid.
“Weird.” The kid poked it, then quickly recoiled. “ Weird. Never seen a tail like this before. You some kind of freak?” The kid laughed, not waiting for an answer. “Yeah. You’re a freak, I can tell. Go fuckin- I dunno, die? What do they do to get rid of freaks?”
He swallowed nervously. He’d been told to off himself a few times. It wasn’t often, but it happened. Never by someone his own age, though. Usually a little older, not quite an adult but also not a kid. Stupid older teens. Sometimes edgy 13 year olds. He never paid much attention to it, but something about this particular instance-
He hated it. He hated that this kid, who he possibly could’ve been friends with if he wasn’t like this, just told him to die. Surely he didn’t mean it-
“Yeah. Anyways, I gotta go. Keep what i said in mind, freak, it’ll do us all some good.”
Okay. Okay.
He almost laughed. Things like that didn’t get to him very often. They just made him feel sorry for the poor soul that told people to die for stupid things like tails. At the same time, though, he really really wanted to deck the kid.
The kid has already sped off, though, so he couldn’t do that anymore.
He just shrugged and started heading back to the alley he’d set up camp in.
He didn’t want to think about the exchange any more that day. He did, though, and he couldn’t get it to leave his head. He thought about the lady from earlier that day, too.
Why did people only ever get angry or say mean things because of his tail? Was it really that horrible?
Maybe people just didn’t like his tail. Maybe they’d be nicer if it wasn’t there. Maybe he’d be able to get a friend for once and keep them if he didn’t have it.
Maybe someone would actually like him.
Maybe he should get rid of it.
Ten minutes ago, he had been fine. Ten minutes ago, he wouldn’t have even entertained this idea. Ten minutes ago, he had been having an alright day- better than usual, in fact.
Ten minutes ago, he had been fine.
And now, he had a knife pressed to the base of the fluffy bit of his tail. He barely processed it.
He pushed down. Blood squirted out and he suddenly realized what he was doing.
He- he was-
Crap.
Instead of immediately going to patch it up after realizing, though, he just. Stood there.
He couldn’t bring himself to actually give a damn. That was probably bad, but a lot of things here were bad, huh?
Before he knew it, the knife was resting further down the tail, about halfway down. This time he pulled the tail up as he pushed the knife down.
This time he had to bite back a scream. He still didn’t stop.
And then he had it close enough to the base of the tail that he couldn’t see where the knife was. He pushed down, and the knife only made it halfway through. This time, he did scream. Tears came to his eyes and didn’t even pause before falling down. They burned his skin, but he could barely feel it when compared to the agony of his tail. Or, what was left of his tail.
It took all of his willpower to finish cutting it off. He messily wrapped it, not caring how well he did it. He just cut off most of his tail, what was a little exposure to the elements gonna do?
He wasn’t sure how much time it took. Everything just passed by in a blur after he messed up.
Soon after patching himself up, he passed out. When he woke up, he was lying in a puddle of blood, his face was burnt horribly, and felt so, so numb.
He tossed the bits of cut off tail in a dumpster. He kept the end bit, though. The fluffy part.
He buried it in the park. Maybe it was to give himself closure. Maybe it was to mourn the part of himself he just lost.
Maybe it was just because it felt right.