They Steal My Breath
She could not ask for a better morning with the sun filled room and the smell of coffee creeping up her nose. Her eyes flutter in the morning light, and she reaches up with her left hand to clear away the crust that had formed in the right one. A beam of the sun’s light reflects in her eye through the window with the raised brown sheet, and she blinks a few times to adjust in the thick and floating visible dust. There is some commotion in the kitchen; she sits up with her breasts, fortyyearoldbreasts, twenty-five years without support, sagging in a thin white night gown, barely hidden. Her hair is standing at all ends, dirty blond and disheveled; she tries to run her hands through it, but they stick in the snarls.
Her feet hit the piss stained carpet; the smell of cat urine floating about. Three of the little breath stealing bastards come running in to greet her, and they rub on her unshaven legs and purr. Black and white calicos. She reaches down and picks up the smallest, cradling him in her arms and walking toward the coffee smell.
This trailer is old. The dark, dingy wood paneling and orange carpet gives away its age before anything else can. With the cat in her hand, she travels down the short narrow hallway into a living room that is decorated with a Nightmare on Elm Street movie poster and a Friday the 13th hockey mask on the opposite wall. There is a futon and a big screen t.v. The television is off, and the only sounds come from the cats and the man making breakfast in the kitchen. Four more cats, two pitch black, an orange tabby and a Himalayan, sit perched in various spots around the room.
"Where's Diamond? Diamond's my favorite. Where's she?" she asks.
"Don't know. Get yerself some coffee. Breakfast'll be ready soon enough," he responds dryly.
The man is cut off from her by a set of lower cabinets with a white laminate countertop that divides the living room from the kitchen, minus the little walkway on the cabinets' end. He's sweating already and shirtless, his big beer belly hanging over a pair of off white boxers with blue pinstripes. Dark black hair covers his front and back, and he looks at her with sunken green eyes, a black bag hanging under each, his nose large and obviously broken at some point in its history.
“I ast you, where’s Diamond?”
“Why are you always obsessin’ over them damn cats? They freak me out. They steal my breath. That sonofabitch cat Diamond was on my chest when I woke up this mornin’. They’re tryin’ to steal our lives. If they suck out too much breath, we’re gonna be dead. We need to get rid of these cats,” he responded, turning away from the stove with the boiling pot of water and frying bacon.
“I love my cats. All eight of ‘em, and you’re not gonna take them away from me jus’ because you’re paranoid about ‘em stealin’ your worthless breath. They ain’t doin’ no such thing. We ain’t got much, but we got the love of these here cats, and you ain’t gonna take it away with all of your crazy cryin’.”
“Hell if I ain’t!” he bellows. “Them cats are evil. Ever one of ‘em is evil! I’ve seen all of ‘em on my chest at one time or another. They always do it. They take turns.”
“That’s nonsense, and you know…”
“Ain’t nonsense,” he interrupts. “I haven’t felt right since all those nasty lil’ devils were put in this house. I can’t breathe dammit!”
He pounds his fist on the counter’s edge, and she stands facing him in that thin gown in the heat of the summer morning, sweat now forming on her brow, her face tired and glistening. The large brown paneled door with the faux gold handle is swung all the way open on her right; the storm door shut, the screen ripped and hanging and no breeze blows to stop the oppression of the heat and humidity. She sighs impatiently.
“Well – we need to find Diamond. I’m gonna look outside,” she says in a defeated tone.
“Ain’t no use.”
“Whatcha mean, ain’t no use?”
“Cat ain’t out there.”
“Where is she?”
“Not out there. I tol’ you. I fixed her.”
“Fixed her? What in the Hell are you yackin’ about? Where’s she?”
“I done tol’ you. She was stealin’ my breath this mornin’ – I don’t much appreciate it. She’s doin’ it all the time, long with them other evil creatures you keep bringin’ into this house. I ain’t puttin’ up with it no more. I’ve had it, and these cats got to go.”
“They ain’t goin’ nowhere!” she exclaims, coming close to him with the cat still clutched in her arms. She cradles it in her left arm and gets in his face, the beads of sweat running as her blood pressure rises, adrenaline starts. They are face to face, and he is shaking; she holds her ground, still.
“We’ve gotta get rid of ‘em honey. I’m already short on my breath. It’s getting hard to breathe. I can’t explain it, but I know they are doin’ somethin’ to my breath – they’re takin’ it at night, goddamnit. We’ve gotta stop ‘em. Get rid of ‘em.”
She stares calmly into his sunken eyes, her eyes occasionally looking up at his wet balding head, the sweat now streaming. His shakes are uncontrollable, and his nervousness is palpable. He keeps looking anxiously at the cat, and starts to draw back, getting close to the stove, where the giant pot of boiling water is spilling over; the bacon has now burnt, and the grease sizzles and pops. It burns his back as he stares into her serious blue eyes, her mouth drawn in a mischievous grin, that cat being raised toward him.
“Jus’ get ‘im away from me. I’ll kill it. I swear. I’m gonna kill all these lil’ demon cats.”
His breathing is short. He leans partly against the stove and the counter to steady himself, and she says nothing. She stares and moves closer, bringing the cat up to his face.
“No!! Stop! Get it away from me! I’ll kill it. I tol’ you I’ll kill it.”
“Come on baby. If you love me, you’ll love my cats. They ain’t evil, now just hold her. Once you get used to her and the others, we can go an’ find Diamond. You can show me where she is.”
“Ain’t gonna find Diamond – now get that cat away from me.”
She pushes it closer. He is quivering with uncontrollable fear, and the smell of feces fills the air. She wrinkles up her nose and watches some of it, soft and brown, creep down his right leg and onto the floor.
“Damn! Did you jus’ shit yourself?”
His face reddens, and in a rage he jumps forward and reaches for the cat and clasps around its body with both hands; her hands are still on it. She begins to draw the cat back, but he grips it tightly and will not let go. They begin to struggle, and the cat is making a horrendous sound. It bites into his hand and digs at hers with its hind legs. Blood and sweat mix. The couple struggles dangerously next to the stove, and she finally lets the cat go. His arms swing back over the boiling pot, and he pulls them forward into it, banging the cat off of its metal rim, spilling the water and something else onto the floor.
She jumps back as the scalding water splashes down on the ugly brown floral pattern linoleum floor. He drops the cat with the knowledge of what she has discovered. Both stare with dumbfounded looks on the floor at the wet mass of orange fur, matting down and melting to the floor as the tender meat that held it collapses. She grabs her hair with both hands and shrieks in horror at the site. Her face changes from mischief to rage, and she looks at him with boiling hate, and he is red with shame and filled with utter terror. For that look, he has never seen, not on her.
“You boiled Diamond!? You goddamn boiled my cat!? You crazy ass bastard!” she yells with spit flying everywhere, and her teeth clenched. The little cat is long gone, hiding in some dark corner of the house.
“I tol’ you, she’s been stealin’ my breath. All these cats have, an’ I’m scared. I had to kill her. It has to be done. They all have to be done.”
He stares wild-eyed at her.
In this moment, he looks like her father, like her sonofabitch of a dad. She reaches to her left and picks up a butcher knife from the counter and holds it out in front of her and thinks back to her childhood. Her knuckles go white around the handle.
She’s a pretty fourteenyearold girl sitting on a nasty stained couch in the middle of a postage stamp sized shack petting a little orange kitty. The cat purrs, and she brings it closer, doting and snuggling.
“Where’s my little whore?” she hears her father yelling from just outside.
The familiar fear rises in her, and she goes limp; the cat leaps off of her lap and runs for cover. A few moments later, the screen on the door is filled with a man’s shadow. He wears only a pair of overalls with no shirt underneath; he is as tall as the door, and even though she can’t see his face with the sun at his back, she knows he is smiling. Smiling…
“There you are. Been thinkin’ bout you all day. Workin’ hard, and now it’s time for some play. Whatcha think?”
Silence.
He opens the door and the squeaking of its hinges is ominous. She stares blankly ahead, her hair in pigtails and her dress too short and thin for her body. Slowly, he walks toward her, each step is loud and heavy, thick work boots hit the floor – thunk…thunk…thunk…thunk! He leans over her.
“That’s my girl. That’s my pretty lil’ girl. Looks so cute, jus’ like her mamma did. Mmmmm…”
A shiver runs through her.
“Time to take care of your daddy.”
He unclasps the straps of his overalls and lets them fall around his boots. Violently, he grabs the back of her neck with his right arm and forces her close to him. She stares ahead, and he smiles with three yellow teeth and hollow eyes.
“Liven up lil’ girl. You know you like this.”
His smell is putrid, like vomit and sweat all mixed together, and it takes everything in her to not gag on it. To not gag on the smell or the unfolding situation.
He lets go of the neck and jerks both of her legs in the air, forcing his hand under her dress and ripping the dirty underwear away from her body. His arms are squeezing tight under her kneecaps, and he forces himself into her. She is splayed and catatonic. She flops like a sex toy ragdoll under the violence of his movements, her eyes gazing emotionless at the wooden ceiling. This goes on for a couple of minutes, until he lets out a moan with rancid breath. He pulls away and brings his overalls up and walks into the small kitchen and drinks some warm milk out of a glass container.
“Thanks sweetie. Daddy needed that.”
She says nothing, and finds her underwear, puts them back on and heads into the room to find her cat. The cat is sitting on her bed, so she flops down next to it and pets it. Its gentle purrs make everything better. A tear rolls down her cheek, and she brings the cat closer.
From her place on the bed, she hears the glass of milk being set down and hears the familiar heavy steps. Thunk…thunk…thunk…thunk… He is standing in the doorway of the room, and she wonders what he could want now.
“We ain’t got no money or food to be keepin’ these pets around.” She says nothing. “Did ya hear me girl? I say, we ain’t got no money for no pets, so you need to get rid of ‘im.”
She is still silent and motionless.
He takes two quick steps over to the bed and rips the cat from her arms. She stares up in horror as her father grins, cradling the cat in his left arm, while palming the cat’s head with his right hand. He twists in a hard jerking motion, and the cat goes limp. Tears stream down her cheek. He smiles and lets out a chuckle.
“I say we can’t feed this cat. So…it’s the best thing. Better than lettin’ it starve.”
He carelessly drops the murdered animal; the sound of it hitting the floor is hideous, deadly, sad...
Her father didn’t live long after that…
She snaps back to reality, only it’s not reality, it’s surreality. It’s delusion. Where her husband was standing, now stands her father. It’s him alright, in his overalls, shirtless, grinning after the merciless killing of an innocent creature. Grinning after the raping of a daughter. Basking in the glory of his vileness.
“I’ll do this again,” she mumbles quietly, maniacally, the right side of her mouth twitching to express the sinister.
“Honey, do what again. Whatcha talkin’ about? Put the knife down. Ain’t no need to start actin’ crazy. I jus’ need to get rid of these cats before they kill us. That’s all baby. Put the knife down.”
Her stare is blank. Expressionless. She moves toward him with slow steps, flowing through the hot water and boiled cat. He holds out his hands and tries to circle around her. The smell of fear and feces hangs.
“Ok…stop baby. It’s ok. I’ll leave the cats alone. I didn’t mean ta kill ‘im. It’s just…”
She lunges at him with the knife, and he is able to circle around her and run through the opening between the kitchen and living room, his belly bouncing with each step. In his panic, he doesn’t think to run out the door. He just runs for the back of the trailer, and when he gets near the big screen t.v., he feels her weight on his back, her legs wrapped around his waist, her left hand clutching his chin, and the quick pain of the knife entering his neck, over and over again. Neck, shoulder, neck, shoulder, neck.
He falls forward on the ground, and she is still on top of him stabbing. Neck, head, neck, back, shoulder, neck, head, head, head, head, head…She finally stops and is breathing heavily, staring at the blood spatter on her gown, on the walls. The cats are out of sight.
She plunges the knife in his back, and she stands up. Her right foot slams down on his ribcage.
“You like that daddy? Huh? You stupid sonofabitch. You like that?”
The corpse doesn’t respond. She runs her blood soaked hands through the dirty blond mop on her head and sighs and paces. The rage comes again, and she starts to stomp on her husband’s, her father’s corpse. She sees only her father there. First she starts swinging her left foot into his rib cage, and when she grows tired, she switches to her right. There is a sound and a thought with each blow…thud Do ya like that?…thud Rapin’ and cat killin’bastard; serves you right!…thud…Sonofabitch!
After a few minutes, she starts to pace around the living room. She is mumbling to herself, walking faster and faster and faster and faster. The sun is bright on the dead body, illuminating the gore and waste. She looks at it and heads outside to pace. After a few minutes, she comes back in with a long 2x4 and starts to rain more blows down on the corpse in quick succession. The body moves in accordance with the strikes, twitching with each one. She laughs out loud and breathes heavily and sweats profusely in the humid summer air. The board breaks. She kicks him for good measure.
A dizzy spell overwhelms her, and she sits on the futon to collect herself, but she cannot. Sleep begins to overwhelm her, eyelids are heavy, the mind numb, the soul satisfied with the killing of her father, husband. Whoever it was. She closes her eyes and drifts away in a deep slumber, still covered in blood, still covered in sweat and hatred.
Purrrrrrrrrrr…the little calico she was holding emerges from the hallway. It stops to look at the corpse with the shit stained boxers that is bleeding on the orange carpet. The owner is fast asleep on the futon, and the cat jumps up onto her belly. All of the other cats emerge from the hallway as well. Some of them stop by the corpse and taste from the blood pool. Others follow the little one to her.
The small cat sits on her chest and brings its face close to hers. Its mouth is slightly open, and it takes deep breaths in. Her body bridges with each breath, her chin pointing skyward, and she lets out a little cough here and there, but does not wake. The other cats stare at the little one in anticipation, and the little cat purrrrrrrrs…
Joshua D. Spence
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