Page 4 of Guarded By a Monster

“Thank you for bringing him back to me. You’ll never know how much I needed all of my friends tonight.”

She stepped back inside and moved around her kitchen. She came back out moments later with two small bowls and set them on the edge of the patio.

“Food and water for you. Maybe in time you’ll be less shy.”

She locked the door behind her this time and I relaxed. I listened to the mumble of her voice as she berated Whisker for being naughty until even that disappeared into the darkness inside her house.

She thought I was a stray cat. Or maybe a dog. Warmth radiated from my chest until it filled my entire body. She wanted to care for me. I’d be damned if I let her efforts go to waste. I drained the water and scooped the cat food into my palm. I’d leave it for the family of raccoons who lived in the woods.

As the first streaks of dawn lit the sky, I made my way back to my house and slept nightmare-free for the first time in a long while.

three

A door slammed somewheredown the hall and Sophia jumped. This was the best and worst part of my job. She was a cute little girl with brown ringlets and enormous eyes that skittered around the room.

“It’s okay, just another class going to lunch.”

She stared at me for a few long moments, then took another bite of her sandwich.

When I met her at the beginning of the school year, I knew something was off. I’d had shy students before, but Sophia cowered in the corner and always kept her back to the wall. She immediately took me up on my offer of eating lunch in the classroom, but it was a month and a half before she said a single word.

I couldn’t point to visible bruises, malnutrition or any other obvious signs of abuse, but the little girl’s behavior was enough for me. The way she flinched at sudden movements and wore long sleeves even in warm weather told its own story. I wanted to contact the authorities immediately, but administration said there wasn’t enough evidence. Every day at lunch I chatted with her. They were one-sided conversations, but I hoped she would open up before long.

The school’s resource officer poked his head in, jerking his chin toward Sophia in question. I shook my head and he left, a frown furrowing his brows. Oscar was a kind, older man who worked as a detective for years before transferring to the school. Probably in his fifties, with salt and pepper in his short cropped coils, but he kept his body fit. I could tell he’d seen things no one should ever witness. He agreed with me about Sophia. Something at home wasn’t right. We watched over her, helped her feel safe in every way we could, but until she opened up, neither one of us could do more to help.

He’d met me in the parking lot that morning.

“Heard you had quite the ordeal last night. Y’alright?”

“I’m okay. Shaken a bit, but the officers assured me there’s no reason the perpetrator would come after me. They want me to come to the station and work on a composite.”

He nodded. “I doubt he saw you. Would’a been too focused on his task.” He shook his head. “Drug deal gone wrong, most like.”

Neither man had looked like an addict, but the only thing I knew about that was from movies and TV, and that was clearly unreliable. “That’s what they said.”

“Keep your windows and doors locked and you’ll be fine.” He chuckled. “Those cats of yours would probably scratch his eyes out if he tried messin’ with you.”

I smiled at the thought. Most of my rescues were former ferals who ran and hid when they heard anything unfamiliar. I doubt I could rely on them for protection.

I thought about the strange animal that watched from the treeline. At first I assumed it was another cat that Whiskers was carousing the neighborhood with. Then I saw the red reflection from its eyes and realized it was much larger than a cat. Maybe a big dog.

I can see enough without my glasses to putter around my house, and after witnessing the murder, I left them off for the rest of the night. I did wish I’d grabbed them to get a better look at what brought Whiskers home. The food and water I put out were gone that morning, so I decided to put more out for it when I got home.

Sophia was staring at me when I refocused, so I launched back into the story I was telling her about looking for Whiskers. “He’s doesn’t usually try to get out, so I was scared he wouldn’t find his way home. Lucky for me, he found a friend who showed him the way.”

“A friend?”

Her voice was so low I almost couldn’t hear her. I nodded. “I’m not sure who the friend was. I thought another cat maybe, but it seemed too big for another cat. Maybe a dog. Whatever it was, I’m just glad it brought Whiskers back to me.”

The bell signaled the end of lunch and she hadn’t spoken again, but I counted that day as a victory. She’d said something! Out loud! Like taming a feral cat, progress was measured in minute degrees.

I made it through the rest of the afternoon with half a brain. The other half focused on thoughts of Sophia, the murderer, and the mysterious critter in my backyard. By the time I’d finished for the day, I was exhausted. I slumped into the seat of my RAV4 and let my head fall back.

Startled awake by tapping on my window, I put my hand over my heart and yelled, “Jesus, Oscar, you gave me a heart attack!”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’m heading out.”

I turned the car battery on and rolled down the window. “I’m okay. Just tired.”

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