Chapter 3

I had a nightmare. When I woke up, I reached for the other side of the bed. It was a habit I had developed to comfort myself. I always felt better when I could hold my cat.

My hand found nothing.

My blood ran cold. I threw the blanket aside and dropped to my knees to look under the bed. Then I searched the balcony, the closet, and the couch. I searched everywhere.

At last, I found its collar in the trash can. A few strands of orange fur still clung to it. I bent down to pick it up, but when I straightened, a wave of dizziness washed over me.

Amy walked out of the kitchen with a spatula in her hand.

"Stop looking. It's gone," she said matter-of-factly. "Rose's allergic to cats. We can't have those things in the house anymore."

I tightened my grip on the collar until the little bell dug into my palm.

My voice trembled so violently that it startled even me. "But it's been with me for seven years. It must be scared now that it's alone. It's... not very brave..."

The last words came out as little more than a croak. My voice broke.

Amy frowned. "Your sister would be scared too, Amelia. Can you please stop being so selfish and think about someone besides yourself?"

I couldn't breathe. No matter how desperately I tried to draw in air, my lungs refused to fill. I braced myself against the wall and stood there, gasping for what felt like forever. The moment the dizziness eased, I bolted out of the house.

"Amelia!" Amy shouted.

I ran without looking back.

I questioned the security guards, my neighbors, and everyone in the neighborhood group chat. I even asked the superintendent for the security footage.

One of the security guards told me he had seen someone carrying an orange cat off the property that morning.

I sprinted to the dumpster and searched every trash can and every bush nearby. My cat was nowhere to be found.

My knees threatened to buckle. Sweat soaked through my shirt until the fabric clung cold and damp to my back.

…

That evening, someone posted a message in the neighborhood group.

[Whose cat is this? Found it under the rain shelter.]

My whole body shook.

It was my cat.

It was curling into itself beside a cardboard box, its fur soaked by the rain. It kept staring toward the apartment where I lived.

I grabbed my raincoat and rushed for the door, but Amy stepped into my path.

Roger stormed out of his study and barked, "Are you actually thinking about bringing that thing back? How selfish and cruel are you?"

He raised his hand. "Your sister hasn't even come home yet, and you're already cooking up a scheme to hurt her!"

I stood there and waited for the blow.

I wished he would hit me as hard as he could. At least, that pain would be real, something I could see and feel. It would be better than the crushing, imploding weight of grief lodged in my chest.

Amy stepped between us and caught his wrist. "Don't! What if you leave a scar? That would go to Rose!"

Roger's hand remained suspended in the air.

The taste of metal filled my mouth.

This face... wasn't even mine anymore.

…

They shoved me into my bedroom while I screamed and fought back.

Roger pried my fingers from the door frame while Amy held the door shut.

The door slammed in my face. I threw myself against it, twisting the doorknob over and over, desperately willing it to open.

That night, another neighbor posted a photo.

Orange lay in the back alley beside the street. The puddle beneath its body had spread into a pool of the most heart-wrenching color.

[The cat got hit by a car, y'all. By the time I tried to help, it was already gone.]

[It kept looking toward the apartment entrance. It wouldn't leave no matter how many times people shooed it away. I don't know. It looked like it was waiting for someone. Are you sure it doesn't have an owner?]

I wanted to call out to Orange through the photo, but my voice felt trapped inside the hollow cavern in my chest. Only tears escaped, along with a broken, pathetic yelp.

I clenched my fists. My fingers dug so deeply into my palms that I didn't realize I was bleeding until I felt something warm trickle down my hand. Orange's bell had cut a shallow gash into my skin.

I wept.

I curled into a ball and wept until my whole body trembled.

Orange had been my friend for seven years. When everyone else cared only about a sister who was already gone, Orange was the only one that cared enough to wait at the entrance to our home for me.

And they had thrown it away too. Even while it was waiting for me.

The bell chimed.

My phone screen lit up.

[You have one chance to deny the Replacement. Do you wish to deny it?]

I looked at the picture of my cat, drenched in rain and lying in a pool of blood.

I made my choice.

[OK. The Replacement will proceed.]