“Cover up before you go out!”

“People are cruel, don’t trust anyone!”

“This is for your own protection!”

“It’s just not natural. Most people won’t understand. I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“How disgusting! The hell is wrong with you?!”

I’ve heard it all.

From a young age I was taught that I needed to cover up my cat ears and tail before going out. Having these traits was rare, about 5 percent of the population possessing them. Those who did were known as hybrids; a mixture of a person and a cat. Despite being a small part of the population, hybrids have existed just as long as man has. Not that you’d learn about that in your high school history class. The poor souls who did possess the cat ears and tail were treated like scum by the rest of society. Forced to hide who they really were for fear of rejection or even violence from those around them.

Lucky me. With jet black cat ears perched on top of my head and a matching cat tail just below the small of my back. You know, considering how long we hybrids have been around, you’d think people would know what caused the cat features. There’s different theories floating around, but none of them have been proven fact. Some say it’s a gene, others say it’s a result of bestiality. Both interesting theories but both untrue. My personal favorite is hybrids being caused by some infection or disease; the only sick I am is sick of this ignorant, hateful shit. I was just born this way.

The best part of being a hybrid was my dad walking out on Mom and I the day I was born. Calling me a freak of nature and saying how humiliated he was to have me as a son, storming out of the hospital room and filing for divorce that same day.

Bastard.

Oh well, at least I have a mother who supports me, that’s good enough for me. We get by just fine on our own. Who needs that son of a bitch? Or the child support money he never sent?

Even so, Mom telling me how cute my cat ears are in the privacy of our home isn’t going to change how disgusted I’ve become with my body. So many people are born without these traits, why couldn’t I be one of them? It’s hard to not resent myself. Sorry Mom, I know you tried to prevent that.

Even in the summer I’m forced to cover up my body with beanies and long baggy clothes to give myself a sense of normality (out of sight out of mind right?) and to keep myself protected. After all, it seems you can’t open a newspaper or turn on the TV without seeing some horrific story about a hybrid-someone just like me- being brutally attacked or even murdered by some ignorant asshole. It’s not like we asked to be born like this.

Speaking of TV, newspapers, or any media for that matter. It’s pretty rare to see any depiction of hybrids in TV shows, movies, or books…unless we’re being treated like a joke, there’s tons of that.

My biggest question is ‘why?’ Why are hybrids hated so much? Why do we have to hide who we are just to stay safe? Why are so many people disgusted by our existence when we don’t hurt anyone, all we do is…exist.

It’s ignorance mostly. It’s normal to react to change with shock and fear. It just takes some education and enlightenment to turn fear into acceptance. Unfortunately, fear can also turn into ignorance and hatred. Which seems to be the case for us hybrids.

I suppose you’re curious about me? My name is Asher Belrose. I’m sure you’ve already picked up on the fact that I’m a hybrid.

After my dad left us, my mom took it upon herself to raise me on her own. And I think she did a damn good job at it too. Keeping me safe and out of trouble. I can’t thank her enough. Between raising me and opening her own small business, mending clothes, blankets, and other textiles for her clients as well as selling some of her own handmade items, she’s a pretty incredible woman, and I’m proud to call her my mother.

Having a hybrid son didn’t matter to her. But she still warned me about the dangers of others finding out, which I completely understood. The only downside is that despite her constant reminding me that I was still loved and that there wasn’t anything wrong with me, she still wasn’t able to prevent me from hating myself for being a hybrid. Wishing to be normal. Fantasizing about taking a meat cleaver to my tail and ears, solving my problems once and for all. Morbid right?

Alright that’s enough about me. Let’s move on.

This story is about my first time meeting someone like me. Meeting other hybrids is difficult as most are determined to hide themselves from the world. This person in particular still stands out to me. The way he carried himself still amazes me to this day. He taught me a lot, and I’ll never forget him. It all started mid-July, the summer before my senior year of high school.