I thought adopting briquettes would be my salvation, but unexpectedly I attracted a wolf into my house. The black cat I had raised for three years had already become a life-seeking demon lurking around me.
It was once a gentle treasure in my palm, and its soft fleshy pads could always soothe fatigue, until those warm amber eyes were suddenly stained with a strange yellow-green color, and the warmth all over my body was replaced by a biting hostility. The sound of scratching in the middle of the night was the prelude to death. The moment the cold claws tore my flesh apart, I was shocked to realize that the pet I had been with day and night had already harbored bone-gnawing hatred and was pressing forward step by step, vowing to take my life.
It follows me like a shadow, staring at my fear in the darkness; it works step by step, using the most familiar closeness to weave the most deadly trap. Every temptation, every attack, slows down my reason and forces me to face the secret past hidden in the years.
I have had it for three years and it hates me to the core. There is no way out for this revenge game that uses love as bait. When trust completely collapses and fear devours everything, I can only struggle to wait for death in the cold light of the cat's eyes, or in a desperate situation, tear apart the truth behind its revenge.
