The Girl in the Cell

Billy, always an early riser, woke up at a quarter past six. He went to the bathroom for his morning business, then down to the kitchen for a quick breakfast. He walked down the steps to the first floor of the house, careful not to make any noise. 

In the kitchen he poured a bowl of cereal, taking care not to spill any milk, as he had a habit of doing. He replaced the cereal box to the cupboard and the milk to the refrigerator (which Samantha still called the fridgermator) and took his bowl of cereal out onto the front porch. He sat on the porch swing and spooned cereal into his mouth. He'd always enjoyed eating out there on the porch early in the morning, when everything was still and silent, a private moment of peace for him alone to enjoy. 

At the end of the street the light turned from green to red, though only Billy was around to see it. Crickets were chirping in the grass, a sound he found comforting somehow. The swing squealed quietly as he rocked it gently forward and back. A car passed the house, turning right at the end of the block. 

He finished his cereal and slurped up the last of the milk. He took a deep breath, pulling the cool morning air into his lungs. He stood up and made for the screen door. He pulled it open, the screen squealing on its hinges, but as he was about to open the front door, his hand resting on the doorknob, something caught his eye. 

He let the screen door bang shut and walked over to the corner of the porch. He looked down at it numbly, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Lying there in the corner was a pile of fur and gore, and wrapped around one end was a small collar with the name LESTER on it. Lester was the name of the family cat. A cry of revulsion escaped Billy's throat, and he rushed into the house yelling for his father. 

 -----

The family stood around the little mound of dirt in the back yard. Karen stood with her arm draped around Samantha's shoulder. Billy stood alone with his arms crossed, and their parents stood together. 

When Billy came running into the bedroom shouting, Richard Smith had leaped out of bed, his gut wrenching at the sound of panic in his son's voice. He'd expected Billy to deliver some horrible message like, "there are burglars in the house", or "I reached down into the garbage disposal and...", but he hadn't expected to be told that the family cat had died. He had calmed Billy down and asked him what was wrong. Both Karen and Samantha had awakened with the shouting and were at the open bedroom door. Vera Smith was sitting up in bed. 

"It's the cat, Dad," Billy said. "It's dead." 

"Lester!" Samantha said in a six year old's whiny voice. 

"What happened?" Richard asked. 

"I don't know; it looks like it was torn apart!" 

Samantha started crying. 

"Come on Sam," Karen said. "Let's go back to your room." 

Karen led her little sister away. Richard put his hand on his son's shoulder. 

"Come on, show me what the fuss is about," he said. 

 -----

After the kitty funeral Karen suggested that she and Billy take Samantha to get an ice cream cone, something to take her mind off of the dead cat. Their father had gone to work, which he rarely did on Saturdays. 

A cool breeze started up as they walked back home from Ice King, Samantha licking her scoop of strawberry as some dripped down the sides of the sugar cone. Billy and Karen walked slightly ahead of her, both of them feeling glum. 

"Do you think it was a dog?" Billy asked quietly, not wanting to upset Samantha again. 

"Huh?" Karen asked, lost in her thoughts.