Page 128 of Symphony for Lies

When I was chilled to the bone, I finally went inside.

The silence was suffocating. Foreign.

I moved on autopilot, my body acting without thought. I needed a shower—yes, a shower. My grandmother had allergies, and I couldn’t have any cat hair on me.

I scrubbed myself clean and even dried my hair, just as my grandmother always reminded me to.

Then, I walked downstairs.

The kitchen was dim, the shadows stretching long across the walls. I stood in the doorway, my heart clenching painfully.

Something soft brushed against my legs.

Ivy.

She let out a tiny, plaintive meow, her sleek fur pressing against my pants.

I bent down and stroked behind her ears absentmindedly.

My eyes flicked toward the dark window.

A hollow ache filled my chest as I scooped the cat into my arms. She was hungry.

I filled one bowl with water and another with tuna.

Ivy ate like she was ravenous.

My vision blurred with unshed tears. Susan always fed her with so much love…

A sharp pain spread through my chest. I had promised Susan I’d visit and have tea with her. And I never did.

I inhaled deeply, but my lungs felt constricted as if they couldn’t expand fully.

She was the third victim, and I couldn’t prevent it. I had no idea… Her death was surprising and terrifying.

And my grandma…

Was I supposed to be grateful that I had time to prepare? Was it really better knowing what was coming?

No.

I didn’t want to prepare.

A loud clap of thunder rattled the windows, and the rain pounded harder.

Ivy flinched, leaving her food to leap into my arms.

I held her close, carrying her into the living room.

The storm outside raged on, and the wind howled through the cracks in the house.

There was a knock.

I froze mid-step.

Another knock. And another.

I wanted to ignore it. I wanted to be alone.