Infinite Possibilities

First Birth

Start Again?

Yes.
      
       Carey awoke to the clumsy shuffling of her feline companion, Maria. The sleek, raven-black cat faltered over books, and her strikingly yellow eyes scanned the room until they fell upon a bulge in the blankets that signified her human's half-asleep form. She leaped from the cold, wooden desk onto the bed of the sleeping human. Maria pawed at Carey's black hair, urging her to get up.
        Carey sluggishly propped herself up and shifted herself so she was sitting on the edge of the bed. Maria jumped on her lap, rubbing against her forearm. Carey faintly smiled and gently stroked the cat's soft fur, noting she was shedding. Maria's sharp claws poked at her pale skin, but she ignored the stinging pain and gently lifted Maria off her lap. She stood up and looked out of the window that overlooked her small desk. The full moon gleamed softly into the room, igniting Maria's dark coat. 
        Maria padded over to the bedroom door and stuck her paw under, batting it around. Carey lit a candle that set near her books and stepped lightly over to the door. She quietly twisted the handle of the door and opened it slightly. Maria slipped through the crack, her yellow eyes gleaming, and stepped through the hallway that was adorned with a red carpet, flicking her tail back and forth. Carey gripped the candle holder tighter and hesitated before following her beloved cat down the dark hallway, the only source of light being the candle and the moon.
        Maria often checked back to see if Carey was following her. Carey could only see Maria's shadow, because she didn't dare go faster and risk waking her siblings or parents. Maria finally slowed down at the kitchen door, and Carey peeked in through the window. Everything was in order and in its place as it should be. She pushed the door open, allowing her and Maria's entrance. Knives and various other cooking utensils hung above the wooden counters. The floor groaned as if in pain as Carey made her way over to the counters. The knives caught the glow of her candle, making their silver tint illuminate in the dark.
        She sat the candle on the counter below where the knives hung. She inspected the row of knives until she came across one that was stained with a dark, clearly old, substance. Carey simply assumed that it was blood. After all, it wasn't uncommon to find a knife like that in her home. She gently took it off the rack it stood upon and placed it next to the candle. Lighting up the room with her small candle, she spotted Maria sitting by the sink. Carey picked up the knife and, going to the sink, placed it in the warm, soapy water. Grabbing a cloth, she carefully started to scrub off the stained blood. Maria quietly meowed and rubbed herself against Carey's arm. With a yelp of surprise, Carey's hand slipped, and she cut her hand with the knife.
        She drew her hand out of the water, watching the blood mix in with the water, turning it a light red. She felt her wound with her finger, picked the knife up out of the water, and hurriedly made her way back to her room, Maria trailing behind her. Drops of blood dripped down her arm and fell on the floor from her now severely bleeding hand. She had cut deeper than she thought. She rushed into her room, half slamming the door, and grabbed a bandage she kept on a shelf. Carey tightly wrapped her hand and looked over at Maria. She knew both of them understood the risk well. Maria appeared to be mocking her. Her tail was swishing back and forth in the air, as if it was a clock, ticking away the seconds it would take.
         For moments that seemed like hours, Carey listened through the silence, until she heard it. The faint thumping of heavy feet on the stone hallway floor, following the path Carey had taken, smelling the blood she had spilled. Her eyes were locked on the door, and the footsteps became clearer and clearer until they stopped. She backed up against the stone wall beside her bed and sat with her head in between her knees. There was nothing she could do now. She closed her eyes, listening and imagining what it was doing. The handle of her bedroom door rattled and noiselessly opened. Maria, sensing the danger, hid under the bed, watching it. Sniffing the air, it followed the scent of Carey's blood right where she was sitting. Carey didn't dare to move, or it would hear her movements and kill her. Carey had become faint, for her bleeding had slowed down, but not stopped.
        It glided its tongue over her bloodied bandage and, believing her to be some kind of corpse, gripped her hand between its sharp teeth and violently bit and tugged at her hand, blood splattering on the floor, until it was nothing but a mangled mess of skin and muscle. The bones made a sickening crack as it crushed the rest of her hand between its teeth. She let out a painful scream, only angering it. Coming to the realization that she was alive, it tore and tugged against her arm, bending it in odd angles and snapping the bones like twigs. She kicked and screamed at the creature, but it only gripped her arm tighter. It put one of its legs on her chest, holding her down, and pushed against it, audibly crushing her ribs. Carey finally fell silent, dropping limp.
        By the time it had finished and left the room, waiting for another night, the thing it had preyed on could barely be identified as even a human. Its legs were completely gone, as well as its left arm, its chest was ripped open, empty of its previous contents. The only thing that remained alive was the small black cat that wandered around the room, patiently waiting to be let out.