The Many Ways to Skin a Cat Monologue
|The Many Ways to Skin a Cat by Raeesa Aniff|
I can tell you where it started. I was six years old, and I remember sitting crossed legged on the veranda with my magnifying glass. A present from my step-dad, he thought I'd grow up to be a scientist. Angling it just right so that the light would shine in a point directly on the ant I had been stalking. I remember the sizzle and the way they'd squirm, then a plop and it'd explode. (Mad laughter) Later, I'd catch bugs and spiders. I'd pin them to a wall and watch them die, slowly. Oh, the control, the power, It was my world and I was god.
It didn't stop there; you'd eventually get bored of the little things. My first real kill was my sister Annie's cat. Well, you know how aloof cats can be, the fucking animal hated me, so I taught it a lesson, and my sister for that matter, always calling me weird and freak. I strangled it, with my bare hands, then hung its head from a hook above her bed, so she would see it first thing in the morning when she woke up. They sent me off to a shrink after that.
I was cleverer than him though, and two months later he'd sent me of home with a "boys just will be boys" speech to my parents. So I kept things quiet for a while, snakes, rats, birds, well any small animal I could get my hands on in fact. There's a great sense of power watching something die. Staring into its eyes as it draws its last breath. It's almost pleasurable. I've always been a loner, no friends, at school or college. Not anybodies fault, I just don't like people much, but I liked her.
Justine. Hair like chocolate milk that ran down her back, with bright emerald eyes, like Annie's cat. She was soft. I tried to talk to her, I even sent her a letter telling her how I feel, but she just ignored me. Then I heard her telling her friend that she thought I was a freak, that word again, no-one was supposed to call me that, especially not her. She worked at the coffee shop in the centre of town. I knew she was working that night, and that she would lock up, I'd seen her do it before. I waited till she'd locked the doors and grabbed her from behind, and stuffed a tissue soaked in chlorophyll over her face. She sagged into my arms and I put her into the car.
We drove back to my room and I carried her in. She looked so beautiful lying on my bed. I stripped her naked and tied her to the posts of my bed and spent the night watching her sleep. She woke the next afternoon. Silly bitch started screaming so I had to stick her panties in her mouth. She didn't listen to me, I kept telling her how beautiful she was, but she started crying and struggling. We made love for the next few days and she pretended to struggle, she cried often, she must have been really moved by it. I fed her properly everyday; I washed her and took her to the toilet. I treated her like a princess, any woman would have been thankful for all the attention.
On the last night, she bit me while we were making love, so I pulled her panties out of her mouth and wrapped them around her neck. I watched her eyes as she drew her last breath. The pleasure, the power... the release.