She Slaughtered All for Her Cat

This summer, my mom forced a blind date on me. I refused, flat out. But my entire family ganged up on me, a relentless barrage of texts and calls insisting he was an honest, decent guy—the kind you couldn't find even if you searched with a lantern. With their blessing and encouragement, this man forced his way into my life. He sold my limited-edition perfumes, my custom-made historical gowns, my jewelry, all for pennies on the dollar on eBay. For the sake of family harmony, I endured it. Until he got rid of my cat. The cat I’d had for seven years. My lifeline. In that moment, the dormant madness in my blood awakened. If you won't let me live, then none of us will. 1 Only two children remained in the after-school classroom. My phone vibrated. The screen lit up with a text from Mark. Just seeing his name made my stomach churn. This summer, my mom had bullied me into a blind date. Mark, thirty, a grade school gym teacher, looked decent enough on the surface. I'd rejected him on the spot, telling him I had no interest in getting married. But it was like he didn't understand English. He immediately turned his attention to charming my mother. Fixing leaky pipes, changing lightbulbs, gossiping with her for hours. My mom was completely won over. She gave him the spare key to my apartment. I tapped on the text message. The words leaped off the screen. [Sarah, that cat of yours seemed like bad luck, so I took care of it.] A roaring filled my ears. It was followed by a series of long voice messages. I played them, and the sound, harsh and loud, echoed in the empty classroom. “A cat that eats hundreds of dollars’ worth of food a month? That’s just wasteful.” “We’re going to build a life together. We need to save that money for our future kids.” “Also, your mom and I discussed it.” “Starting next month, you’ll hand over your paycheck to me.” “It’s not good for a woman to have too much money. They tend to spend it foolishly.” “If you need to buy something, just write me a list. I’ll approve it.” Approve it? Who the hell did he think he was? I dialed his number immediately. “Sorry, the user you are trying to reach is currently busy.” He was on another call. I immediately called my mother. It rang twice, then disconnected. I tried again. Straight to voicemail. My fingers went cold. Snowball wasn’t just a cat. She was my reason for living. In my junior year of college, I was diagnosed with severe depression. I came close to jumping from my dorm room window. It was Snowball who bit onto the cuff of my jeans, pulling me back with all her might. She had stayed with me through countless sleepless nights, licking away my tears. And now, Mark had “taken care of her”? I turned to the two children still hunched over their homework. “I have an emergency. How much longer until your parents get here?” One of the boys looked up. “My dad just texted. He’s downstairs.” The other girl said timidly, “My mom will be another ten minutes.” I couldn't wait. I asked Mrs. Evans from the classroom next door, who was still packing up, to watch the girl. I grabbed my bag and bolted. The elevator was on the top floor and wasn't moving. I spun around and burst into the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time while sending Mark a frantic voice message. “Mark! Where is Snowball?” “If you’ve laid a single finger on her, I will kill you!” I burst out of the building and hailed a taxi. “The Willows apartments, and step on it!” The car sped off. Mark replied. It was a picture. An empty cat carrier, tossed next to a dumpster on the side of the road. [It’s just an animal. Why are you getting so worked up?] [Sarah, you’re too emotional. How are you going to raise children like this?] I stared at the photo, my eyes burning. I recognized that dumpster. It was right outside my apartment building. Not only had he been in my home, he had thrown my family in the trash. My eyes stung, but I didn’t cry. In moments of pure rage, tears don’t come. Only the urge to kill. The taxi screeched to a halt. I threw a hundred-dollar bill at the driver without waiting for the change. I sprinted into the complex, straight for the dumpster. The carrier was there, but the cat was gone. I searched frantically, tearing through the surrounding area. The bushes… under the cars… the flowerbeds… “Snowball! Snowball!” My voice was raw. No response. Usually, the moment I called her name, she would come running, meowing and rubbing against my legs. Now, there was only a dead, heavy silence. The only sound was the rustle of leaves in the wind. I stood under a streetlight, my shadow a distorted, monstrous thing. My phone vibrated again. Mark: [Stop looking. I drove her to the river and set her free.] [If we’re going to make a clean break with the past, it has to be a clean break.] [And don’t blame me. Your mother approved it.] The river? Snowball had always been frail, and easily frightened. Leaving her by the river was a death sentence. My hand tightened around my phone, my vision turning red. If you won’t let me live in peace, then tonight, no one is going to sleep well. 2 The last six months had been a living nightmare. Mark was like a piece of gum stuck to my shoe, impossible to get rid of. With my mother’s backing, he had invaded my life without a shred of decency. The first time, he had picked the lock to my apartment. I came home from work to find him sitting on my sofa, cracking sunflower seeds, the shells scattered all over the floor. I called the police. The police came, and so did my mother. She pointed a finger at my nose and screamed, “You ungrateful child! He’s your boyfriend! What’s wrong with him coming to see you?” “And you called the police? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” The police, seeing it was a domestic dispute, mumbled some platitudes and left. The second time, I came home to find my perfume cabinet empty. It was a collection I had spent three years curating—limited editions, discontinued fragrances, and a few custom historical gowns. It was worth thousands of dollars. I confronted Mark. He was indignant. “What’s the point of all that junk?” “I sold it for you. The money’s safe with me.” “We’ll need it when we get married, for the down payment on a house, for renovations.” “Sarah, you need to learn to be practical, not waste your time on such frivolous things.” I was shaking with rage. I told him to give me the money. My mother chimed in from the side. “Mark’s right! You’ve always been a spendthrift.” “The money is safer with him. It can be your dowry.” I should have taken a knife to him then and there. But I held back. I thought, as long as I don’t agree to marry him, he’ll eventually give up. I was wrong. With a bully, tolerance is encouragement. My restraint had only emboldened him. And now, he had laid his hands on Snowball. The riverbank was a vast, dark expanse. It could take me a whole day to search it all. For Snowball's sake, I went straight to my mother’s building. This apartment was once my home. Now, it was Mark’s sanctuary. Standing in front of the security door, I took a deep breath. I could hear the television, and laughter. It was Mark’s voice. “Mom, look at this comedian. He’s hilarious.” “And your cooking is amazing. So much better than any restaurant.” My mother’s delighted laughter. “If you like it, eat more. You can come for dinner every night.” What a warm, loving family. A picture of domestic bliss. The loving mother and her filial son-in-law. And I was the unwanted outsider. I took out my key and slid it into the lock. The people inside seemed to hear the noise. Mark’s voice stopped. “Is that Sarah?” My mother scoffed. “Good. She’s back. She needs to be taught a lesson.” “Treating a cat like it’s royalty. It’s ridiculous.” The door opened. Mark was sprawled on the sofa, his feet propped up on the coffee table. My mother sat beside him, peeling an apple for him. My father was in the armchair, reading a newspaper. When they saw me, Mark didn’t even move. He just looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Well, well, look who’s here. Back from your little adventure?” “Did you find your precious furball?” My face was a thundercloud as I strode into the center of the living room. My mother frowned, about to launch into a tirade. “Where is Snowball?” I stared at Mark, my gaze unwavering. He took a bite of the apple with a loud crunch, chewing with relish. “Didn’t I tell you? The river.” “I don’t remember the exact spot. I just threw her out.” “It’s just an animal. Is it really worth all this drama?” My mother slammed the fruit knife on the table. “Sarah! Look at yourself! What have you become?” “You walk in here with that long face, who do you think you are?” “Mark did this for your own good!” “That cat is full of germs! What about when you get pregnant?” “It’s gone. We can just buy you a toy cat.” For my own good? I looked at the woman who had given birth to me, who had raised me. She was a stranger. A complete and utter stranger. She had never once asked me what I wanted. Only if Mark was satisfied. In her version of my life, I was just a prop, a means to an end to fulfill her grand plan of “daughter gets married and has babies.” “I’ll ask you one more time.” “Where. Is. Snowball?” I pulled a box cutter from my bag. The blade glinted in the light. The air in the room instantly froze. The newspaper slipped from my father’s hands. “Sarah, what are you doing? Put that down!” Mark stared for a second, then let out a derisive snort. “Who are you trying to scare?” “Sarah, you don’t have the guts to kill someone.” He stood up, his six-foot frame towering over me. “Go on. Do it. Right here,” he said, pointing to his chest. “If you don’t, you’re a coward.” My mother rushed over, her hand raised to strike me. “You rebellious brat! How dare you threaten your husband with a knife?” “Put it down!” Her hand connected with my cheek. A sharp, stinging pain. The force of the blow snapped my head to the side. I tasted blood. Slowly, I turned my head back, and a slow, cold smile spread across my face. 3 “I’m not kidding.” The tip of my blade was pointed steadily at Mark. The amusement on his face deepened. “Sarah, you’re really committed to this act, aren’t you?” “Fine. You want to know? I’ll tell you.” He sauntered over, his face close to mine. He lowered his voice, speaking in a whisper only I could hear. “I tied a big rock to that little beast.” “Dropped it right under the Bridgeview Road overpass.” “It made a nice little ‘plop’ sound. Sank real fast.” “Probably all bloated by now.” My Snowball. She was terrified of water. Even a bath made her howl. How desperate must she have been, in that dark, cold river? Was she waiting for me to save her? But she couldn’t wait any longer… I plunged the box cutter forward.

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