| Kitty Cat Short Story by Cody Craig Catherine was fuming, or at least that�s what she thought. At thirteen years of age, her emotions hadn�t matured to the full extent. She rolled over and pushed a tabby cat from the bottom of with her bare foot. �Reeoow.� She pushed another one off with her hand. �Reeoow.� Then moved a black one off of her pillow. �Hiss.� She itched her legs, and felt the dry scabs crumble under her fingernails, blood and puss wept freely from her numerous infected flea bites. She was sick and tired of this morning routine, actually she was sick and tired of the cats. They were everywhere. She couldn�t escape them. They lay around the house all day long, watching, judging. Their eyes looking down at her, thinking that they are better than her. And the smell, it was the smell that really got to her. The putrid stench of unclean litter boxes, cat shit and decaying fish. She was fuming, as she had been every morning for the last four years. She was angry at the injustice of life, livid at the drunk driver that had ripped both of her parents from her life on that tragic stormy night. The drunk driver that had catapulted her from a normal happy life in the suburbs to this feline hell. She heard heavy footsteps climbing the wooden staircase to her attic cell, they stopped on the landing outside her door. Then the rattling of keys. Catherine cowered into the corner, she pulled the bed sheet up tightly around her neck. It didn�t offer her much protection but it was a psychological barrier. She heard the click of the lock and the door squeak open on its rusty hinges. A silhouette appeared in the door, a black block with tree trunk like arms and legs. A shiver of fear trembled throughout Catherine�s body. What are you doing to my kittys?� boomed a gruff, hoarse voice. �N.n.n.n.othing,� stuttered the terrified girl. Catherine had never stuttered when her parents were alive. �NOTHING!� �I.I.I.I�..� �You lying piece of shit,� growled Aunt Edith, a plethora of cats weaving in and out of her legs. Catherine could hear the cats purring as they smooched and rubbed their mangy coats against the oversize calves of her aunt�s legs. The sound made her feel sick. �They tell me everything,� laughed the old spinster. �T.T.T.hey w.w.w.were��.� �I don�t want to hear your whinging, you filthy little bitch. You can stay locked in your room today.� Aunt Edith turned to walk out of the room and saw the bowl of raw pilchards sitting on the chair in the corner of the small room. �You haven�t even eaten your dinner from last night.� �B.B.B.But��.� Tears started to flow from her terrified eyes. �You ungrateful little whore. You can go without today.� �B.B.B.But��.� The trickle of tears turned into a river as the door slammed shut. Salty droplets fell from her sallow cheeks onto the filthy stained bed sheet below. The keys rattled and the lock clicked, Catherine heard the weighty footsteps as her lawful guardian descended the staircase. Catherine was terrified of the old woman. Aunt Edith was her father�s older sister, but that was where the connection ended. Her father was the most caring loving man that she knew; he was always smiling and laughing and never had a nasty thing to say. Aunt Edith on the other hand was a complete contrast. She was mean and nasty, spiteful and malicious. The only time that she was even remotely happy was when she was alone with her cats. The wretched cats, thought Catherine. She sometimes wondered if the old lady could actually understand the cats. It astounded her that whatever she did Aunt Edith knew about it in quick time. It was as if the cats were watching her and reporting her movements to Edith, one would scuttle off to file a progress report and in its place another would take watch. Its eyes always staring, watching and waiting for its time to go and report her actions to the feline general. She hated the cats that much that she had even considered changing her own name, just the thought of her name containing the word cat was enough for her to want to change it. She had always liked the name Melissa. It was her mother�s name. Maybe when I grow up I�ll change it to Melissa, thought Catherine. * * * * * Catherine, curled up in the foetal position, rolled around the floor in agony. She held her knees tight to her chest as wave after wave of excruciating pain jolted her stomach. �Get up off the floor, you miserable child,� groaned Edith. Catherine screamed out in pain as a particularly bad spasm convulsed her stomach. She heaved and a jet of fetid smelling vomit shot out of her mouth. �You filthy rotten bitch. You�ll clean your own mess up when you�re done.� Catherine rose to her knees and on all fours she scampered across the floor to the litter tray as another excruciating contraction racked her stomach. She only just made it to the litter box when her bowels gave way. Blast after blast of putrid smelling watery diarrhoea sprayed the kitty litter. Edith left the attic. Half way down the staircase she yelled out, �Don�t forget to clean the mess up, you dirty bitch.� |