Cat Cross Their Graves by Shirley Rousseau Murphy

Cat Cross Their Graves by Shirley Rousseau Murphy

Author:Shirley Rousseau Murphy [Shirley Rousseau Murphy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
ISBN: 9780061740121
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2007-03-03T16:00:00+00:00


Lori hoped it was a cat creeping across the floor and not some other creature; the way this place smelled it could be a rat or anything. She drew her feet up as best she could, being tied like they were. Outside the dirty windows the sky was milky with clouds but not much light came in around the drawn drapes. The animal drew closer. Had some wild animal got in? Unable to move much, she could only watch, she couldn’t kick or fight back. The idea of rats scared her bad. The kids in one of the foster homes said there were rats, and she’d seen big rat droppings. They said if a rat bit you, you died. They’d threatened to catch one and put it in her bed but she’d run away before they did.

It was coming. A silent shadow slipping toward her. She wouldn’t scream. It reared up, looking at her—and she saw it clearly. A cat. It was only a cat. Letting out her breath, chewing at the tight, dirty handkerchief that bound her mouth, she thought at first it was Dulcie.

But it had a fluffy tail, not smooth like Dulcie’s striped tail. Long, dark fur. It leaped to the chair arm, looked right into her face, then dropped into her lap, heavy and bold. And purring.

She couldn’t pet it or touch it. It stared at the ropes that bound her arms, and it bent its head over her arm.

It began to chew. To chew the rope. Lori couldn’t believe what she was watching, she felt her heart lift in wonderment. The cat had the rope right in its teeth, its teeth pressing against her skin but not hurting her. It chewed ever so carefully. Chewed and gnawed the rope, and all the time its purr rippling and singing really bold. And its furry warmth pressing against her. The cat smelled of sour earth but she didn’t care. Watching it gnaw on the rope, she thought of magical animals. In Narnia, in the fairy tales, in “Cinderella.” She thought of the mice nibbling the lion’s bonds and she wanted to laugh out loud.

But those were stories. That didn’t happen in real life.

Except, it was happening.

She wondered if she’d wanted someone to help her so much, she’d made up a dream. She’d been so scared all night since he grabbed her on the hill and tied her up and hoisted her in his car and made her have a lesson. An algebra lesson in the middle of the night in that cold, stinking car, and that was what scared her most. A school lesson, with her tied up. A flashlight and a workbook and he said they were in school and that he was a teacher and his eyes were crazy, all black and strange. A grown man playing school. What did he want? Why did he force her to answer questions? Said that if she answered all of them right, he’d let her go, but she knew he wouldn’t—yet she hoped he might.



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