Endless rain taps against the window panes, fighting viciously to get in, like starved rats gnawing at the glass. I’ve stared out this window for who knows how long, trying to make out the shapes that move in the dark world beyond. Sometimes it’s hard to know if anything really exists out there at all, except for the rain, and the tap-tap-tapping of something I’m not so sure is rain. The city is always so dark. 

Click.

Light filters in from the other side of the room as the door swings open. I shift, kicking the moist shavings away from my feet, and see her. Angelique. The little devil.

She ambles towards me, completely oblivious to the peculiar limp in her left hip. She has hollow eyes, the kind that can look in your direction, but it’s hard to know if she’s looking at you so much as through you. And there she goes again, leaning down and trying to poke me through the bars. I try to take a bite out of her fingers, and almost do it, this time. Damned girl just laughs. She has no idea. 

The cage swings, I try to stay in one place, the usual. I don’t normally get to be taken out of her room, but today is a special day. She limps through the house, bumping the corner of my cage on walls, and being overall careless. I guess I can’t blame her. She’s only eight. 

Finally, we make it to the kitchen. She sets me on the counter, in front of the microwave. I can see my reflection on the black plastic door. Ragged poofy tail, one eye missing, one ear halfway torn off but still hanging on, and a messed up back foot. That’s me. “Let’s name him Cutie!” Angelique screamed at the top of her lungs when Mother and Father pulled me out of the box. Almost suffocated in that thing, and to top it off I was going to be named Cutie. Great.

I look away from the microwave and settle in, watching the family. 

Maybelle, the oldest daughter, and Father sit at the kitchen table. Maybelle stares at her phone, Father stares at his newspaper. Mother is next to me at the stove, cooking something greasy. She’s a little frantic, all too aware of her family’s ravenous appetites and patience that’s ticking down. I have to dodge some of the projectiles coming off the stove. Bacon? Something else? It’s hard to tell.

Angelique pushes her chunky little finger into my cage again. I jump. I forgot she was there. She laughs, moves closer. Her breath smells like putrefied lollipops. Kid never brushes her teeth, I guess. “I’ve got a secret, Cutie.” 

Oh?

She just grins and points at the counter. I try to figure out what she was pointing at, but it’s difficult. She’s not the sharpest tool, you see. But, maybe that is what she was pointing at. The silverware tree is on the end of the counter, holding a fanciful collection of knives. 

Mother waves her away, “Go sit down you little heathen!” 

Father looks up from his newspaper, and his expression flattens when he lays eyes on me. “Cutie’s coming to breakfast?”

“Yeah!” Angelique jumps up and down before sliding into a seat next to Father at the table. The man stares at me for a little too long. I relieve myself to let him know I feel the same. 

“Ah...alright then.” He sighs and shakes his head. No one else rebels, so it looks like I’m staying. 

Maybelle rolls her eyes and stares at her phone, apparently annoyed by everyone’s breathing. Out of everyone in the family, she’s always been my favorite. No bullshitting when she’s around. 

“What are you looking at sweetie, talking to boys again?”

“It’s none of your business, dad!” Maybelle screams, putting a heavy emphasis on the word ‘dad.’ Typical teenager. 

“You better not be talking to boys. You know what happened last time.”

Mother, Father, and Angelique all sit up straight, smiling at the wall. They wait a few seconds before leaning back into their normal positions and continuing to do whatever it was they were doing.

Mother lifts the bacon from her skillet and places the shriveled up pieces on some napkins. “Breakfast’s almost ready, hun. Won’t be long now.”

“Uh huh. You said that an hour ago.” 

“What’s in the paper?” Mother tries to redirect the conversation. She wears an odd expression. 

“Robbery, murder, corrupt politicians, the usual.”

“What’s in the murder section?!” Angelique breathes, heavy and hot. Father eyes her over the top of his newspaper, and then laughs, sending pustules of spit into the air. He pats her head while wet droplets spread across the newspaper. Maybelle watches from over her phone. She starts rapidly tapping her screen, harder than she was before. 

“Oh honey, always the curious type.”

“There! Breakfast is ready!” Mother proudly exclaims. She dumps the pieces of bacon onto four separate plates and prepares to spin around in a flourish, but then she stops. Her voice dies in her throat, her odd expression deepens. I grin, watching her stare in a panic at the hot eyes of the stove. 

“Well, bring it on!” Father exclaims. He folds his newspaper and places it beside his empty plate. 

“Er—just a moment, ha!” Mother accompanies her words with a breathy laugh, but from the panic on her face, it’s obvious she’s freaking out. Ah, that’s what it is. Panic, with a side of confusion. 

Oh, and I don’t appear to be the only one who notices it. Maybelle is sitting sideways, arm resting on the back of her chair, her suspicion as noticeable as the black makeup around her eyes. 

“Dad, what is in the murder section?” she asks without turning around. 

“You kids are crazy,” Father picks up his newspaper and tries to find the section again. “Uh…” his eyes search the page. 

A loud clattering startles everyone. Angelique wears a look of feigned innocence, but can’t keep up the act beneath her older sister’s intense glare. The little devil laughs, and then hops off her seat and tries to discreetly pick something up off the floor. No one else can see what she’s fiddling with, but I already know what it is. It’s been the same thing every time. 

Mother tries to spin around one more time, but can only make it halfway before she winces. Her feet refuse to move, stuck standing directly facing the stove. 

“Oh fuck...oh fuck…” Maybelle sets her phone down and cradles her head. 

“Don’t swear!” Father starts to reprimand her, but then his voice trails off. 

For a moment there is silence, except for, you know, Angelique sliding a knife across the floor and Maybelle muttering to herself. 

“I’ve gotta get out here. None of you know what’s going on! Maybelle stands, abandoning her phone. 

“What’s going on, honey?” Father asks. He pushes the newspaper away and tries to stand, but he’s stuck in his chair. “What the—”

“Look!” Maybelle nearly screams. She pushes her chair back and walks over to the window. She tries her best to pry it open, until her fingers are bloody. 

“No, stop!” Mother tries to stop her, but her feet are glued to the spot. She tries desperately to uproot herself, but she can’t. 

I find myself smiling. Panic begins to descend upon the family.

“Mike, I can’t move! What’s going on?!” Mother shrieks. Maybelle finally wrenches open the window, allowing the chilly nighttime air to seep into the kitchen. She tries to take a step away, but she finds that she can’t move either. 

Angelique stands up, hopping on top of the table, steak knife in hand. “Angelique, get off the table! Maybelle, what’s going on?!” 

“Don’t you see, Dad?” Maybelle cries. “Look at my phone. Pick it up. Look at it. Look at it!”

She repeats the words over and over. I eventually just tune her out, especially when her words turn into sobs. Father can’t pull his ass out of the chair, but even so, he manages to stretch across the table and pick up Maybelle’s phone. From my place on the counter I can’t really see what’s going on, but whatever it is, Father doesn’t like it. He throws down the phone and barfs. I wrinkle my nose.

Angelique balances on the table like a shitty circus performer, knife in hand, and then she trips. At least, I think she trips. I haven’t been able to tell if it’s purposeful or not. Either way, her little foot steps on Father’s plate, sends her center of balance rocketing off to the left, and her heavy little body plunging the knife straight towards Father’s neck. He’s able to catch her, but not before the knife cuts an artery. He throws his youngest daughter to the floor while he tries to stop the bleeding, and I don’t think he notices that she lands awkwardly on her hip. 

Mother tries to race forward and help her husband, but it’s too late. Her apron has already caught fire. It engulfs her immediately, almost comically fast, and she becomes nothing more than a wriggling mass on the floor while Father bleeds out. Something happens between Angelique and Maybelle, but if I’m being honest, I’ve always been too distracted by the fire to pay attention to what happens to them. All I know is that Maybelle is somehow sent out the window, plummeting into the abyss that is the world we find ourselves in. 

And then, all that’s left is Angelique and I. The crackling fire that was once Mother sounds like a pristine, snowy night, with a fireplace crackling in the living room, if you really close your eyes and imagine it. I had that once, before I was boxed up and sent to this family. 

Angelique walks around the kitchen with Maybelle’s phone in hand, but she gets bored of that after a few minutes. She grabs my cage, lifting me into the air and giving me motion sickness as she swings me back and forth to her room. 

She sets me on the dresser, and then sits on her bed. The only source of light is from the kitchen, and the way it’s angled, it gives Angelique a grotesque appearance, with only half her face showing. I stare at the little brat for a while, waiting for her to say something. I don’t hold my breath, though. 

“What do you want to do now, Cutie?” Angelique whispers. 

I twitch my tail and recline in my moist shavings. What to say, what to say?

“You should open my cage, and then fly away. We’ll all be free,” I whisper back. 

Angelique’s eyes light up. She begins climbing on the bookshelf at the far end of the room, higher and higher, and then launches herself off. She hits the corner of her bed, her neck snaps, and her leg settles at an unnatural angle. 

I stare at the mess, just as disappointed as last time. Shit. Got to find a better way to rephrase it next time. 

The tapping of the raindrops gets louder and louder, and then, the window seems to lift on its own. I watch the swarm of hungry rats pour into the room and sink their teeth into Angelique’s body. They pull her out of the room, and the door shuts behind her. I can hear more scurrying paws in the kitchen. And then the window slides closed, looking no different than it was before. 

I stare out the window for who knows how long, trying to make out the shapes that move in the dark world beyond. Sometimes it’s hard to know if anything really exists out there at all, except for the rain, and the tap-tap-tapping of hungry rats. The city is always so dark, but one day, I’ll be able to see it for myself. 

Click.

Light filters in from the other side of the room as the door swings open. I shift, kicking the moist shavings away from my feet, and see her. Angelique. The little devil.