Stories Of Horror

Bad Kitty

"Bad Kitty"

"Daddy, why does Whiskers always leave dead mice outside our door?" My sweet daughter asks innocently.

I love how inquisitive she is. "Well sweetie, it's actually kind of funny. Cat's don't realise that we don't hunt like they do, so they kill things to help us because they think we're bad at being cats."

Later, I tuck her in and kiss her forehead as she closes her eyes. Then I retreat to my study to finalize my plans. Tonight is the night. The night I get the bastard who took my daughter's mother from us. I finish my plans, pack my bag, and head to his house.

Except he's not there. I don't understand- all my planning, carefully monitoring his movements. He should have been there. I drive home, frustrated, confused, mourning my wife all over again for the justice we've been denied. 

I quietly open the front door and I see him. Or rather, his body. Neatly displayed on the floor. Stabbed to death, but the blood is cleaned up. No mess. My mind is a fog of confusion, sadness and rage, until I hear my daughter's bedroom door open.

"Don't worry, Daddy. I know you're not good at this, so I wanted to help you."