Maggie looks out of the clear window. Her eyes not focusing, just staring in front of her. Her fingers twitch in her lap before reaching up to her face, rubbing her cheek, before dropping back into her lap. She does this three more times before a sound escapes her lips, a wail like an uncomfortable baby seeking relief. Her hair falls in white wisps around her head, unaware of its tangled mess.
A TV blares with noise, she cannot distinguish the words. The moving pictures do not sustain her attention. The glass window remains a fixture for her gaze. Someone steps in front of her, blocking the light. Cold hands touch her bare skin, she jumps and screams. She kicks out with her feet and scratches with her fingers. Someone is trying to hurt her. She howls as she is made to stand on her rickety legs.
The cool air drifts around her exposed skin. She shivers. Hands grip her arms too tight, stopping her from fighting. She is lowered back into her chair, her ailments now soothed. Her eyes return to the window. Someone leaves. Her fingers twitch in her lap. She reaches up to her face and rubs her cheek, before dropping her hand back into her lap.
This is the first piece of original fiction I've attempted in awhile. The protagonist is not a cat despite the picture, I thought the image conveyed the deep sadness that's in the story. I was inspired by a documentary about the state of adult social care in the UK, which was truly heartbreaking.
Image from Pixabay