Work didn’t relax me the way that I had hoped it would. It did nothing to preoccupy my brain, which continued to drift from the task at hand and wander into the abyss of Junhong’s eyes. I broke several dishes when they fell off of a precarious stack on my arms, and my carelessness earned me a deduction from my paycheck – not exactly what I needed when I was already struggling to pay for my utilities.

I’d been even more pressed than usual for money; the stray cat who had been prowling the nearby alleys had taken up residence on my balcony. Out of pity, and loneliness in my empty apartment, I adopted him. He had lost half of his tail and one of his pumpkin-orange eyes, but I thought it gave him individuality and character. After watching his lopsided walk (no doubt due to the absence of the balance in his tail), I named him Totter. But cat food was unexpectedly expensive, so I was considering dropping my hot water bill in order to provide for my less fortunate companion.

My walk home was undisturbed, which I found comforting. In the hours preceding the solitary travel, I’d become unnerved by the thought of Junhong worrying me again. What if this time he was less inclined to talk things out and decided instead to eliminate the liability of my knowledge? This had been one of the many concerns occupying my consciousness, both when I dropped the plates and when I let myself into the front door of my loft.

The earliest signs of physical intuition prickled on the back of my neck, even though I hadn’t seen or heard anything peculiar as I closed and locked the door behind me. I set my bag on the kitchen counter, tongue tracing the edge of my lip when I noted that Totter wasn’t where he usually sat guard over his food bowl.

“Totter?” Feet leading me into the center of the apartment, I ed my coat and bent forwards to drape it over the coffee table. Only then did I see the thick trail of coagulated blood on my carpet. It took me a few seconds of disconcertion to pick out the splashes of older stains, my own, a few inches away from this newer smear. This wasn’t from the same source. This was fresh.

A thickness blocked my throat, and I tilted further forwards to track the path of the burgundy fluid. Every inch became broader in width until it became an uneven pool, soaking into the carpet while clots of solidified blood clung to the surface. I clutched my neck when the stiffened form of Totter appeared at the opposite end of the drying lagoon.

His throat was torn open laterally, the wicked gash bearing the flesh of his esophagus in a gapping but faultless line. I lifted the palm of my other hand to stifle a sob – a ripple of loss, terror, and revulsion. My mind was immediately in overdrive, seeking blame or explanation. The loft across the balcony. Had I seen the lights on? The knives in the kitchen. Was one of them missing? The front door had been locked. Who was in my home? And were they still there?

Was Junhong waiting for me, hiding in my bedroom?

Rage flushed heat into my face, rushing past the tears which had obscured the image of gore before me. If there was revenge to be taken for senseless murder, I wanted it. I understood his grudge with me – but this was a pointless killing, done only for the sake of disorienting me into silence.

The resentful wrath inside of me detonated my earlier bewilderment, and I drew myself upwards with an indignant roa