I am not human. Nor am I a demon, vampire or spirit. I am beyond them all.

I am a kitten. A cute, adorable little kitten. At least I was.

As I write, I am sheltering in a cold, damp trash can. Demons hunt me. People I avoid. My time is now spent keeping myself alive, foraging through the garbage heaps, catching rats. Birds. Anything that looks edible, anything to relieve my hunger.

It wasn't always like this. I wasn't always like this. Once I was loved, cared for. There was a time when I wasn't lonely. When everyone doted on me, made me feel safe, warm, secure.

I was bought, like a mat or a ball of string. That is the fate of all domestic kittens. It is not as bad an arrangement as it sounds. Our owners take responsibility for our well-being, and we are not required to perform any tasks. Many of us, I believe, never even understood why they took us under their roofs, but accepted this happy situation without too much worry.

The people who bought me had seemed a good pair. They liked me write away. Their names, I remember, were Willow and Tara. I do not remember why they chose me, why they decided to love me, of all the other cats. It was a lifetime ago.

Today I know that it wasn't love they felt. They liked the way I looked. They did not want me for who I was, but for what I was. Because I was an infant, for my small size, for how I looked. I was cute. And I was stupid, thinking they would love me forever, feed me, keep me warm. Now I understand the truth, that I was merely a moving ornament.

Soon, my looks faded. Gradually they lost interest in me, so slowly I never noticed until it was too late. They would look at me, and instead of seeing their little bundle of joy, they would see an ordinary cat. First, they would play with me, call me by my nickname, "Little Miss Kitty Fantastico". Then they just called me "Miss Kitty", stroke at my still soft fur. As I grew older and larger, they called me by name less and less. Then I realised they'd never named me.

Maybe they would have kept me if things had been different. If I never scratched the curtains, if I had been toilet trained. I believe this less and less. The fact is they let me go, without warning, no goodbye.

Abandonment is not easy to accept. I had never thought them the type of people to let their children go. I thought had a special link with them. I thought they loved me.

After reading this, things seem clearer. Loneliness, cold, hunger, what you survive makes you stronger. And I have grown strong. They never loved me, they never cared that I was lonely, they never cared for me. Any warm feelings to them have now become hate. I am now capable of revenge. I shall have it.

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