THE CAT MURDERER

Chapter Eight - The Point of No Return

CHERRY GROVE - MONDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2014; 7:08 PM.

I had never been so scared in my life.

It was raining hard, and it was dark. I walked down the street alone, freezing cold, soaked all the way through to my skin.

My breath clouded in front of my face as I sloshed down the street, trying to focus on  putting one foot in front of the other instead of thinking about what I was about to do. My hands felt like ice and I shoved them in my pockets. My heart felt like ice and so did my stomach. I was just frozen.

I made my way down the block and walked around an ordinary house on the ordinary street and knocked on a door. As I waited, it felt like forever. I felt my heart thumping in my throat and my stomach churned in my chest. The door opened and light flooded out. I jumped back.

Aaron squinted into the darkness. "Elliot? What are you doing here?"

I was shivering and my teeth were chattering. I shouted over the wind and the rain, "I need to talk to you!"

"Oh," He stepped out of the way. "Come in, man."

Aaron's parents had let him convert their basement into his bedroom, so he could have his own space. It was really messy. He had a bed, a couch, and a TV set with some old bean-bag chairs in front of it. Game controllers and cellophane wrappers were strewn on the floor. There were a bunch of boxes stacked in the corner that I assumed were for storage. 

"Everything okay?" Aaron asked me as I took off my wet jacket.

"Uh, yeah! Yeah. I was just...around." I wasn't a very good liar.

"Oh, uh...alright." He picked up a joint from a table and lit it, then he offered me a drag. At that point, it was all coming together, and there was no coming back.

"Nah, I'm good." I declined.

Aaron shrugged. "Alright. I'll go get you a towel." He walked into the bathroom, and I took a step back to sit on the couch. My foot hit something, and I bent down to investigate. Carefully, I pulled it out from underneath. It was a suspiciously stained shoebox. With shaky hands, I opened it.

It was Milo's bloody pelt.

Trying not to puke in my mouth, I quickly pulled out my phone and texted Lynne, "Aaron's house 911." Then I froze as I heard the sound of stainless steel flicking against fiberglass. I slowly turned and saw Aaron standing in the doorway holding an open switchblade.

"So that's why you're here, huh?"

I stood slowly. My legs were shaking so hard that I almost fell back down. I spoke, trying to sound severe, but the words came out in a trembling squeak. "Why'd you do it?"

He walked towards me with the knife at a painfully slow pace. "I'm sure you'd love to hear the answer to that question..."

He continued stepping forward. I took a step backward and stumbled against the couch.

"...but unfortunately, you've become part of the problem."

I had made the mistake of blinking, and suddenly he had crossed the room and grabbed me by my shirt collar. He slammed me against the wall so hard it knocked the wind out of my lungs. I felt like I was going to puke. I felt the sharp, cold edge of the knife pressing against my larynx. My heart began to beat even faster, making my nausea worse.

My eyes were wide in fear, and as I stared into his cold pupils, I saw no remorse for what he was about to do.

Aaron threw back his head and laughed. "YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT BECAUSE YOUR GRANDPA IS A DETECTIVE!" he shouted mockingly.