This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/ilexaqui on 2024-09-07 22:22:17+00:00.
I first got him in January. I was volunteering at the animal shelter when he was brought in, skinny and shivering. Lou said he’d been left outside, probably dumped there by an abusive owner as their first and only act of kindness towards him. He was terrified. I brought him home with me that evening.
By February my hands were covered in little scratches and I’d well and truly learnt my lesson about cuddles. He was a very proper cat, if he sat too still you could almost mistake him for an ornate china ornament - with his sleek black coat and pointed ears. Even though he’d been through an awful time of it, you could just tell there was a very proud cat waiting to reappear. I named him Raymond, which he seemed to approve of. He started eating his dinner on the floor next to me, and would occasionally let me stroke his head without a hiss.
By March he would come to greet me at the door when I got home from work, skipping down the stairs from wherever he’d been dozing. His ribs had disappeared beneath his healthy coat, and his shiny green eyes seemed to smile at me.
We were both doing well in April. My once scared cat had now become a confident, cuddley boy. I’d get to kiss him on the head goodbye as I left for my first few dates with Owen.
Owen was charming, and everything I’d ever dreamed of. I’d spend evenings with him in fancy restaurants, laughing away and hanging onto his every word.
One evening in May, I was walking home from another wonderful evening when I tripped and fell smack bang in the middle of the pavement, leaving angry red grazes on each hand and knee. I hobbled home feeling sorry for myself, and was greeted by a familiar mew at the door. I tried my best to give myself some first aid, and when I climbed into bed Raymond appeared at my side. He sniffed at the haphazard plasters and stared at me, his green eyes big and curious. ‘Nothing to worry about Ray, I just tripped is all’ I told him. Owen was always joking about how clumsy I could be. Raymond seemed to frown, wiggling his black tail in the air. Then, he leaned forward and gently pressed his head against my grazes. I’m not sure how he did it, but his eyes seemed to roll back into his head - and I could’ve sworn they then began to glow. He sat like that, completely still for a few seconds before drifting off to sleep.
When I peeled the plasters off the next morning, every mark had disappeared. I couldn’t believe it. I spent ages running my fingers over my now-smooth skin. Raymond just sat in the doorway and stared, his head tilted to the side.
I wondered if I’d dreamed the whole thing, but in June it happened again. I’d been moving my things into Owen’s flat when I’d caught my finger on his door latch, leaving a rather deep cut. Owen just tutted and went to pick up the box I’d dropped. Later, after Raymond had inspected our new home he came for his evening cuddle. Owen was at the pub by then and he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
The poor cat was still so wary of certain people. I felt guilty for moving us in with Owen in a way, but he had insisted, and how could I say no? Raymond came to sit on my lap and upon noticing my finger his eyes immediately rolled back into his head and definitely glowed this time. I took off my bloody bandage to find again that any trace of the wound had vanished. Raymond purred softly as I stared at him, mouth agape.
By the end of August, Raymond had healed a fair few scrapes and bruises for me. I’m ever so clumsy of course, which Owen always ridiculed. If I’d known better I’d have said he liked seeing me upset. Sometimes, he would come home drunk and accidentally push me. On one occasion, he did this when I was cooking at the hob and Raymond seemed to use all of his might healing my seeping burn.
I spent an awful lot of time in pain, and the rest lonely.
I’d stopped volunteering at the animal shelter a few weeks before, when Owen and I decided I should be working more hours to help pay the rent. I missed Lou, and I missed my friends. We lived quite far from my parents too now, and I missed having friendly conversations that weren’t just with Owen on a good day. I still had Raymond though.
September went by in a bit of a blur. I found myself stuck in an unnerving state of trying to do everything just right. I would walk home from work slowly, savouring my time in the cold and the dark. But not too slowly, or Owen would question where I had been, and with who? I didn’t see anyone nowadays. I would make sure the dinner I made was exactly to Owen’s standards, even though I knew that most of the time there would be a tiny, unseen detail that would set him off. He’d leave in a huff, taking my car to the pub round the corner. I’d sit in silence with Raymond while he was gone. I felt trapped. Raymond would give me a nudge, or a purr, anything to get my attention. But I was frozen. I only moved again when I heard the door slam. I would look down at Raymond. He knew he was in for a long night too.
In October, on Halloween, things reached rock bottom. I was lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling when I heard Raymond gently push open the door. I’d been so worried about him. Owen had come home drunk, again, and almost tripped over Raymond who was sleeping peacefully on the rug. I’d instinctively jumped up, rushing to keep my precious cat safe. Owen didn’t like that.
Now I was on the floor, and I couldn’t get up. I couldn’t do much of anything anymore. ‘I’m sorry Raymond’ I whispered, feeling my lip begin to bleed again. I started to cry and the tears stung my swollen eyes. ‘I’m sorry I brought us here’. He gently brushed his face against my blackened cheek, and I felt like dirt. My tears splashed against the cold floorboards. Raymond deserved so much more than being stuck with me. I couldn’t even keep him safe.
The door slammed suddenly. I had to grit my teeth to keep from screaming when my broken bones ground together as I jumped.
Owen was home.
His heavy footsteps dragged through the hall, the sickly smell of whiskey surrounding him like a storm cloud. He swayed as he came into the room. His bloodshot eyes quickly focused on me.
He walked over and let out a chuckle, giving my snapped leg a swift kick. ‘Get up, then’ he sneered.
Every muscle in my body was screaming at me to move, but the sharp pain in my chest pinned me to the floor. My breath was coming in shallow gasps, and my broken ribs felt like knives carving into my lungs.
‘Pathetic’ Owen spat ‘Laying there, feeling sorry for yourself. This is your fault. It always is’. Raymond began to growl beside me, but Owen ignored it. He dug his fingers into my swollen face. ‘You’re completely useless, now’.
Raymond hissed. Something had changed in him. His sleek black form, normally so calm, was now tensed. His muscles rippled beneath his fur and his green eyes honed in on Owen. They began to glow eerily under the flickering light.
Owen laughed, releasing his grip on my jaw. ‘Oh look at this. Your stupid cat. He’ll protect you’.
Before Owen could reach out for him, something in the air shifted. The pressure dropped, and the room felt heavy. Raymond’s growl deepened, sounding far more primal. His eyes weren’t just glowing anymore; they were burning.
Owen staggered back, his face contorting into confusion and then pain. ’What the hell-‘ he started, his words cut off by a scream.
I could only watch, wide-eyed, as Owen’s body began to jerk violently. His arm twisted, the bones snapping with a sickening crunch. He screamed again, the sound ripping from his throat as his skin began to stretch and split. Hot blood oozed from the cracks like lava.
My own injuries - the burns, the broken bones, the bruises, began to fade. I felt them peeling from my body as Raymond had done a hundred times before. But this time, he was putting them straight into Owen.
His knees buckled as another snap echoed through the room. His leg was bent at an impossible angle, the flesh tearing as though he was being pulled apart from the inside out.
‘Raymond, no-‘I whispered, but the word felt hollow. Could I even stop him? Did I even want to, really? The cat’s gaze never left Owen. His tail flicked in a deliberate motion, and Owen screamed again. This time it was louder, higher-pitched, as his ribs caved inwards with a wet crunching sound.
Despite everything that he’d done, I hoped that the alcohol was dulling some of the pain. At least a tiny bit.
Owen convulsed as his spine twisted, vertebrae snapping like dry twigs. Blood sprayed from his mouth and his hands clawed uselessly in the air. He was reaching out for me.
Over the next few minutes I squeezed my eyes closed as I listened to every crack and snap. It was slow, and deliberate. Raymond was savouring this.
Finally, Owen collapsed onto his front. His body was barely recognisable, and a shudder wracked through me as I realised it was a mirror image to how mine had looked only an hour before. His breath came in short, sharp gasps. He looked at me, trying to plead, his eyes wide with terror. He was a wounded animal.
I don’t know what came over me, but I looked over at Raymond and nodded.
I looked away when my cats jaw began to unhinge, stretching wider that it should ever be able to. I still heard though, the sound of Owen disappearing into the gaping maw. I heard the crunch.
When I turned back around, Raymond was a cat once more. He licked his paw and used it to wipe a drop of blood from his sleek head. ...
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