“So, kitten, do you think you can do this?”
“You see the bag full of food outside that door?” I nodded. “Take it.”
“Of course it is.”
“But…stealing is wrong!”
“After all the lessons and punishment you’ve had, you should know better than to go against my orders. Now do it!”
I tried to resist him, but nearby henchrat grabbed my arms and pushed me to the door…
Stealing is wrong…even thought I was force to do it, I always felt horrible.
No one ever used my name. I was “kitten” to everyone…everyone but Macavity. Mac did occasionally call me “kitten,” but he usually used “Demeter,” Demy,” or “my dear.”
I often thought I was going crazy…no one but Macavity and his dark, evil henchrats to talk to. Crying myself to sleep every night…not remembering there was a time when I hadn’t been with Macavity…forgetting what my sister looked like…trying to remind myself that there were good, kind cats out there…
The worst thing was the fear. Ever since I first saw that red tom, I was filled with fright. Even if I did manage to escape, I’d always have fear. My fear sometimes felt like a mask, imprisoning my real self, forcing me to constantly be on guard, always being troubled.
Perhaps the worst thing that happened, so far, occurred a moth ago…
|Parts 6 &7