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The first thing Mob felt was pain.
White hot, agonizing pain creeping down his spine, clawing its way into his arms and legs. It made it hard to breathe, impossible to move. His first instinct was to scream.
All that came out was a strange, gurgling whine, akin to a dying animal caught in a trap. His mouth tasted like blood, and his jaw refused to move how it was supposed to. Was he dead? He couldn’t remember what’d happened. He couldn’t remember much of anything. Only that he was in pain, and that all he wanted was for it to stop.
He could hear someone’s voice, distorted and muffled somewhere to his right. He turned his head towards it, trying to force his eyes open to see who was talking to him, but he couldn’t see anything. Everything was dark. Were his eyes even open? A frightened sob escaped him, making his spine spasm painfully yet again.
There were hands on his face. Soft, gentle hands, caressing his cheeks oh so carefully. Who was it? He didn’t know, but he leaned into their touch, desperate for any sort of comfort. He felt their fingers prying his mouth open, warm liquid sliding down his throat and making him choke. He tried to struggle, but they shushed him, holding him down, petting his head to calm him down. After a moment, the pain started to subside, finally allowing him to relax a little bit as his muscles unlocked themselves for the first time since he’d gained consciousness.
Slowly, his head started to feel less and less like it was stuffed full of cotton, allowing him to focus. He still couldn’t see much of anything, but he could hear a bit more clearly. The sound of a soft voice cooing at him caught his attention instantly.
“It’s okay, Mob. It’s okay.” they whispered, that sweet tone washing over him like a warm blanket. “I’m right here. You’re okay. I’m gonna take care of you.” That voice…where had he heard it before? It was familiar, he knew that much, but he couldn’t remember who it belonged to. It was comforting, though, the way they whispered to him, the way they reassured him. It was nice.
“W…ho…” The words were slurred, his tongue heavy in his mouth as he tried to speak. He was determined though, swallowing the blood oozing down his throat before trying again. “Who…a-are…y…ou?”
There was a long pause. Mob wondered for a moment if they hadn’t heard him, or hadn’t understood him properly, but they answered before he could repeat himself.
“I’m Verity.” they murmured. “I’m your friend.” His friend? Mob thought for a moment. Did he know anyone named Verity? Did he remember anyone at all? Any attempts to visualize anyone’s face rendered nothing but tv static, hiding faint silhouettes behind frosted glass. He didn’t know anyone’s face. He didn’t know his own face.
“D…Don’t r-rem…emb-ber…” he whimpered. Why couldn’t he just get the words out? It was frustrating, trying to talk when his mouth wouldn’t cooperate.
“I know.” Verity said softly. Those gentle hands found their way into Mob’s fur again, and he couldn’t help but purr a little bit. “I know you don’t. You had an accident and hurt your head pretty bad. But it’s okay. I’m here to take care of you.” They were here to take care of him? Well, they had been petting him this whole time, and whatever they’d made him drink earlier had made the pain go away. They must be his caretaker, right? Who else would do this for him? Besides, it’s not like he had any other options. He couldn’t see or move, and he had no idea where he was. He couldn’t do anything for himself. But they would help him, right? That was probably the only reason he was alive. They’d said he’d hurt his head, and clearly whatever injury he had was severe if these were his symptoms. If they’d been keeping him alive all this time, they must care a lot about him. They must’ve saved him.
A small, crooked smile crossed his face and he nuzzled into their palm, his tail wagging just a little bit.
“T-Ta…ke…care o-of…m-me…”
“Yes.” He could hear Verity’s smile in his tone. “I’m taking care of you. I always will. Now, no more talking, okay? You need rest.” He could feel Verity tucking the blanket draped over his body a little bit tighter, wrapping him up gently like a newborn baby in a swaddle. Mob sighed, letting himself melt into the sheets, focusing on the fingers carding through his hair and the sweet, loving voice in his ear.
“Just go to sleep, Mob. You’ll be okay. I’ll always take care of you, I promise.”