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He didn’t want to get up, but he had to. The creaks of the old mattress springs rang out through the silence of his dark room, curtains preventing most light in. He sighed, pushing himself off from his bed.
He shivered as the cold floor hit his feet, sapping any warmth he had during his night’s sleep. The seasons were changing, and he wasn’t looking forward to the temperature drops and the difficulties that came with that. Still, he wasn’t about to complain, considering that Mama was home with him for the first time in a month.
He loved Mama. She was often tired from work, having to provide for him since… Since he didn’t have a Papa, but he loved her because of that. He did his best to do the housework when she was away, but he could only do so much before he had to stop. She never said anything about it, but just seeing her relax when she got home was enough for him, even if she didn’t acknowledge his efforts.
He carefully padded down the stairs, taking care to avoid the creaky step near the bottom in case Mama was resting. She did that more times than he wanted, often staying in bed until late into the afternoon, which made his housework all the more difficult since she often got angry with him if he made too much noise on the rare occasion she was home. He was left alone most of the day because of her sleep schedule, and he felt like he was alone in the house despite her presence, but he knew his Mama was trying her best.
He crept into the living room, slowly tiptoeing his way over to the blinds to let the sun’s rays into their home. He smiled as the room brightened up with the dawn of a new day, feeling all the more invigorated about today. He was gonna make Mama happy.
Upon entering the kitchen, his face morphed into disgust at the sight of the worktop, dishes thrown about carelessly with bits of food left inside. His Mama ate a lot of food again, and that only meant one thing.
He closed his eyes at that, knowing just how she’d be once she woke up. Still, he loved her, she let him stay with her, left him food for him to heat up, let him have his room…
He loved his Mama.
The next few hours were spent carefully cleaning while trying to make as little noise as possible, often coming close to dropping the dishes because of how difficult it was to reach some of the higher cabinets. If it weren’t for the step stool, he’d never be able to climb up onto the worktop. Sure, he fell more often than he’d like, but it wasn’t like he was getting too badly hurt or anything like that.
His knee ached at that reminder.
Finally, though, after a long while of cleaning the floor, worktops and dishes, he had gotten the last bowl in his paws, straining his arms to reach the only spot in the already overfilled cupboards-
When the bowl suddenly slipped out of his grip, dropping onto the worktop and smashing all over it. He yelped in fright, barely keeping from falling right off onto the tiled floor but in turn stepping on the sharp ceramic, letting out a hiss of pain as blood smeared onto the table.
He made to start cleaning up the mess when he realised something crucial. His Mama wasn’t storming down the stairs like usual. The smashing sound was very loud, almost deafening, so that should have woken her up, at the very least.
His heart, still hammering away from the fright that came from the smashed bowl, sank into his gut at that. What if his Mama was hurt, or worse? Carefully stepping down from the worktop, flinching whenever he walked on his injured foot, he made his way to the stairs carefully, suddenly more fearful of the ascent than any other time before. The cold darkness upstairs seemed to swallow even the sun’s light, daring him to even try going up there. He was scared, very scared, but he had to find out what had happened to his Mama.
The first step up was deafening, heart still hammering away as his imagination ran wild with all sorts of things he could see up there. Each step only made things worse as the darkness drew closer, but he wasn’t about to stop out of fear. His Mama was up there, and she could need his help.
After what felt like an eternity going up the flight of stairs, he reached the hallway connecting his room and his Mama’s, suddenly feeling like the walls were closing in on him at that moment. He took another careful step, reaching up for his Mama’s door handle, stopping just shy of it in apprehension.
He stood there for a few minutes, the dull ache of the cut on his foot keeping him from completely losing himself in his imagination as everything seemed to spiral out of control. Mama could be hurt, Mama might not wake up again, Mama-
He swallowed tightly, shaking his head to dispel any thoughts that she was in any danger. Taking one last deep breath to calm his hammering heart, he reached up to the handle, and slowly pushed it down. As the door creaked open, he peeked inside the pitch-black room, barely able to discern his Mama’s bed amidst the darkness.
He entered quietly as to not disturb her in case she was asleep, still watching his step in case of noisy floorboards as he arrived at the foot of the bed.
“M-Mama?” His voice quivered in fear, suddenly aware that he was shaking violently. “Mama, are ya awake?” He forced himself to pry his eyes from the floor, peaking up at where she was laying.
The silence of the room answered his question.
He should have been relieved with that answer, but something felt off. Mama often snored, so why wasn’t she at that moment?
Still shaking with anxiety, he made his way towards the side of the bed, paw reaching for her shoulder.
“Mama, are ya-” He stiffened at the feeling of soft fabric where matted fur should have been. It was cold to the touch…
His pain and fear forgotten temporarily, he turned quickly to the window, opening the curtains to let some light in, turning back to the bed. He hoped and prayed that it wasn’t what he thought, but…
Mama was gone.