Prologue
It twitches. When I poke the end of my stick into the little stray cat, it twitches. The little tabby cat tried to get away and clawed me when I took it. Red blood welled out of the scratches, and for a moment I stared at the droplets that formed. It made me remember a puddle of blood on the floor and a woman lying in it. The cat I have put in an old pillow slope is thrashing, trying to get out despite how badly it’s wounded. Having to fight for its life makes it live just a little harder, in hopes of staying among the living.
I took it to the woods behind the house. There’s this secluded place within a few old oak trees where Mom and Dad can’t see me and where I like to experiment with my little animal friends. The forest always makes me feel at ease. It’s like I belong here more than in a stupid classroom with my idiot class mates. And when I experiment with my animals, the thoughts of school completely fade into the background.
I used one of my father’s hunting knives to make an incision in the cat”s belly. There is something magical about seeing the blood and the guts that are usually neatly inside come spilling out. The sounds the cat made hurt my ears, but I guess I can’t expect it to shut up when it’s being cut up. The intestines took a while before they found their way out. As I poke it with a nice stick I found, it doesn’t screech anymore. The beast went quiet a while back. I think it might be the blood loss. Or shock. It’s a tiny thing anyway, so I suspected it wouldn’t last long.
Now that it’s almost dead, I put it back in the pillow case. The eyes are already looking at me lifeless, while I can still see its chest shallowly moving up and down. Dragging it behind me over the forest floor, the cat’s body gets stuck behind bumps in the road every now and again, making the dragging heavy on my arms. The thrill of seeing the blood is quickly fading and that makes me feel as empty as ever. All my worried thoughts reappear.
All the other kids like to play, but I just don’t see the point. Useless games like make-believe or tag bore me to the point of wanting to set the house on fire, and I’ve been told over and over again that I’m not allowed to do that. The only game I like is hide and seek, because I like the suspense. I like the way it feels in my belly and I like to be covered in darkness where nobody can find me. The other kids stopped playing hide and seek with me though, because they could never find me and they quickly lost interest in it. Milo Vanderbilt told me they never searched for me anyway, so I stopped playing their games.
I throw the pillow case with the cat in a hole I dug in the ground a few days ago. It’s not the first time, but usually I feel a little less empty for a few weeks after getting an animal. This time, the thrill is gone already, which is a shame. I like the thrill.
I’m sure the cat is still alive, but I start covering it up with dirt anyway. I couldn’t find a way to get the spade from the gardener’s shed, so I cover the cat with the loose dirt with my hands. The idea that the cat is taking its last breaths down there stirs something in my belly. A half smile forms on my face, and suddenly today feels like a very good day.
My hands are covered in dirt, and if I go back to the house looking like this, one of the maids or the nannies will surely know something is up and start asking questions. I don’t like their questions. They treat me as if I’m a little kid and I’m dumb, which are both inaccurate.
I walk through the other side of the forest, where I know there’s a pond. I can use it to wash my hands and then I can go home without anyone knowing what I did. That stirs something in my belly as well. It’s just like playing hide and seek, but more sophisticated. Mom and Dad think sophistication is one of the most important things in life, so I must be doing something right.
When I’m bent over to wash my hands in the small pond, I hear laughter coming from the other side. A few kids are playing there. They seem to be my age, but I don’t know them. Maybe they’re the neighbor’s grandkids coming to visit for the summer. Their careless laughter annoys me.
A girl, maybe a little younger than me, is running around in a blue dress with sashes. Her raven black hair bounces behind her as she runs away from one of the other kids, a giggle leaving her mouth as she does so.
The sound scares me, making me stand up from my crouch and she notices me. Two eyes as dark as night stare at me, and they seem to twinkle, full of life. I wonder what it’s like to look in those eyes as that light dims. Will she twitch like the cat did? She waves, turns around and starts running back after one of the other kids.
I stand there for longer than I can understand why.
Feelings rage through my whole body. Something tingles between my legs, and I’m surprised to experience what’s going on, even though I’m aware of the basic biology that seems to be going on in my pants. Confused and curious, I wander back home, the image of the life in the eyes of the little girl burned on my retinas. Rage fills me when I think of how alive she looks and my mind starts making plans on how I can change that.
I should go to the library tomorrow. There are bound to be some books out there on murders. And evidence and stuff like that. Taking a stray cat isn’t going to get anyone’s attention. Taking a person will. I need to make sure that isn’t going to happen. If I’m ever going to get noticed, I’m going to get noticed for who I am. Not for what I did.
There’s a spring in my step as I make it to the house. I’ve got work to do, and I’d better get to it.