Reese (Pack of Misfits #2) - Raven Kennedy



I need more.

Like, a lot more.

I run around on the wood shavings and sniff and sift through it, searching for something—anything—to help build up my nest. Maybe some lovely pillow stuffing. Or a marble to add some color. A bottle cap would go nicely too. But there’s nothing. I squeak in utter distress.

My nest sucks.

And I’m so friggen hungry.

When was the last time Rick Dick gave me food? Or water? I can’t remember. I don’t even know how long it’s been since I’ve last seen him, the bastard.

I’m stuck in this crate with no way out, and just thinking about it kicks my anxiety up about ten notches. Cheese and mice, being trapped is not a good feeling, so… Must focus on nest.

I used to have more things in my old cage. Not much, but those little glass shards and pieces of wrappers really helped me add a little flair. I love shiny things. But that was before Rick Dick kicked my cage—with me in it—and broke it against the wall. Now I’m in this old plastic crate reinforced with plexiglass. Nothing in here shines except for my sparkling personality.

So...yeah. It’s a little drab.

Using my nose, I start to move the scraps of wood shavings to the corner of the cage and build it up as high and as thick as I can. Then I start digging, digging, digging. I hollow it out and hide inside where it’s dark and warm.

Ah. Nice, cozy little nest.

My stomach growls, aching with emptiness.

My nose twitches. My whiskers flick. I’m so damn hungry. So trapped. Am I going to di—nope. Not gonna let my mind go there.

I need to keep distracting myself. Distraction is the key. Ooh, a coppery key would look so good in here! My beady eyes look around. Nest. I just gotta keep building up my nest.

Maybe I should sift through the wood shavings again…?

Before I can do just that, I hear noises. Is Rick Dick finally back? The thought is both welcome and terrifying. Maybe he’ll feed me and give me water. Or...maybe he won’t. He’s a dick like that.

But when the person starts walking around the space, I know it isn’t Rick Dick. This person smells new. He smells...human.

I hide in my nest, fearful of who this stranger is and what’s going on. I hear voices and things moving around, and all the while, my stomach twists and turns with the need to eat. My mouth is parched, and my body is lethargic. The last of my hoarded crumbs are long gone. I’m desperate for food.

After a while of me hiding from the newcomer, my whole world suddenly starts moving. My claws scrabble for purchase as my crate is lifted up and I’m carried away. Fear slams against my ribs in time with my heart.

Bright sunlight filters in through the plexiglass, and then I’m placed in the backseat of a car. It smells like leather and old french fries. I burrow myself in deeper, trying to hide from the movement. A car door slams, the engine starts, and all I can see is the blue sky out the window.

I don’t know what to think right now. What the hell is going on?

When was the last time I saw the sky? I can’t remember that either. Rick Dick always keeps black sheets tacked to the windows to block the sunlight from coming in. He’s a bat shifter, which is why he always makes his place feel like a dark, dank cave. So even when he let me out of my crate to run around on the threadbare carpet and sniff through all the trash he was always leaving on the floor, it still wasn’t exactly nice living.

We drive for a while. I’m not sure how long, since I doze off at some point, tired out from all my squeaking. I get jolted awake when the door is yanked open and my crate is picked up again. The quick, jerky motion sends my whole nest crashing down around me.

Son of a mouse! My rat is practically forlorn. My nest was really big that time, dammit.

With jostled steps, I’m carried indoors somewhere, and then there’s a clack, and my crate is set down. My heart is racing a million miles an hour, but I don’t dare move. I wait, buried under the shavings, wondering what’s happening now.

I hear voices, but they’re distorted, and honestly, it’s been so long since I’ve spoken that I’m not really tuned in to words anymore. The talking goes