𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆—-𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒚-𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

Playing Corpse dance by Kikuo

(Warning: animal cruelty and violence)

When I was younger I had strange fascinations with things.

Whether it animals or the science behind so many things.

It was strange obsession.

I wasn't a smart kid.

I wanted to be.

I wanted to be smart enough to know the straight facts of my obsession.

But i wasn't.

Home life never helped that.

I wasn't taught things at home.

And if I was then it was nothing but violence.

We didn't have everything we needed anyways.

Even if I wanted to, nothing could teach me at home.

I didn't have a father. A single mother is all.

Not like she could teach us kids anything anyways.

We were poor. So poor that it was hard know if I was eating dinner each day. The only thing that brought me comfort was the long walks I took around the neighbourhood.

The neighbourhood was dangerous and poor, dirty streets that had rats and stray cats running about the sewage drains.

Sometimes I'd try to feed some of them if I had enough pennies to buy cat food. Most of them ran away from me or tried to scratch me so it was always a fail.

But one day, there was a tiny black cat. It looked no older than a few weeks old, ratty and small without a mother. It was in a box. It let me feed it. I couldn't help myself and against the rules, I brought him home.

The first night with little Spider—That's what I called the cat after i saw him playing with a spider in his brown, broken box—wasn't too bad. It was nice to have a cuddle buddy. It also soothed the hurt and pain I'd had felt from the hours before bed.

But one night, a few days after getting spider and hiding the kitten away from sight, I suffered a nightmare.

It was usual for me though it didn't stop the sweats and tension that built in my body.

I was used to them. But when I woke up....

God.

The sight.

I felt it before I even had the chance to look down at what I'd done.

Poor spider's head had been between my hands...

There was so much blood...sticky and uncomfortably under my nails...

His little, tiny frame was unmoving and...so disfigured...

During my sleep, my hands had clenched tightly around his tiny black head,

Squeezing

And squeezing...

......

Spider was buried in the front garden out of sight the next morning.

I shed a few tears before I was forced back to my normal.

Not before scrubbing my hands clean from his blood.

I couldn't get the blood out from under my nails no matter how hard I tried.

I was devastated. I was afraid.

Of myself.

Of what I'd done to another living creature.

Why?

Why had I done this? And why was I now so afraid of myself to the point I could barely look at my own disgraced reflection?

Because one part of me was mortified.

One part of me mourned the tiny cat I had nurtured the past few days.

And the other part of me,

Deep in the back of my head,

Enjoyed the feeling.

Enjoyed the power.

I Enjoyed it.

That terrified me.

An:

I, by no means support animal cruelty. This chapter made me so sad!! I have my own cat and trust I gave my cat lots of love after this. Let's all have a moment for spider the kitten😔

Who do you think this confession is?👀