What the Hospice Cat Knows
horror◐ MatureI push the door open and step inside. Mr. Avery is sitting up, breathing fine, watching the TV with the sound off. "You okay?" I ask. He smiles. "Better than okay. But that cat's been sitting outside my room for an hour. He never does that for nothing, does he?" I don't know what to say.
"He's just a cat," I say, more to myself than to him. Mr. Avery points past my shoulder. "Then who's that behind you?" I turn. There's a thin gray figure standing in the corner of the room, and it has the same flat yellow eyes as the cat in the hall.
What happens next?
1 ways forwardI back up against the bed. The gray figure tilts its head, just like the cat does. "It only takes one of us tonight," it says, in a thin, dry voice. "Him, or you." Mr. Avery looks at me with sad, knowing eyes. "I'm old," he says. "You're not. Go. Let it take me." So I do. I walk out, and I don't look back.