The Lonely Hearts Club

Chapter 8: Cat (Hades)

TW: there's a sentence about animal cruelty
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I've never been pinned to the wall.

Or had my mouth covered the way Bree is covering it.

That's my move.

Except all the pinning is done from behind because I can't stand all that eye contact shit.

Bree looks up at me, eyes terrified, her hand is shaking over my mouth.

If she wasn't so fucking scared, I'd confront the postman, find where Rowan is sending shit from and hunt him down.

Then Bree's source of anxiety is taken out, and I don't have to see her all worried like this.

"Sorry," she says after a while, finally pulling back from me.

"That's all good, angel."

Shit.

I said it again.

"Nobody can know you're in here." She says, going through the process of unlocking every single lock.

She has a lot of locks.

"Then it's impossible for Rowan to find out?" I guess and she nods, almost collapsing outside to retrieve the box.

If I see him, I'm killing him.

Wouldn't be the first time I took someone's life.

"I'm scared." She whispers.

"You sure you need to open it?" I counteract, not really sure how to respond.

"Yes." She says distractedly.

Something in the box just moved.

I watch as she fumbles in her pocket for a box cutter, slowly dragging the blade against the duct tape.

She takes a deep breath and opens the cardboard top.

Jesus Christ.

Bree lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

"Nah, what the fuck?" I say.

She stumbles away from the box and before I register what's happening, she's grabbing my arm.

"Hades," she gasps. "I can't do this anymore."

I pull her into a hug and let her cry against my shirt.

I don't really do the whole hugging thing, but I think she needs it.

I look into the box again, lip curling downwards.

A black cat has been cut up, its head decapitated from the body, leaving blood all over the inside of the box.

"I hate him!" she sobs, voice muffled by my chest. "He knows I love animals."

I gently pat her back.

"I'm literally a vegetarian!" she wails.

When a thin mewling starts coming from the box, she freezes.

"There's...there's something else in that box." She looks at me, pleading.

"Hey, it'll be okay."

I lift my hand up to rest against her cheek and she leans into it.

I don't even think she means to.

"I'll check it."

She lets go of me and I investigate.

Along with the dead cat, there's a small bundle of fur trying to burrow itself underneath the mother.

Ah, shit.