Inside their little house, it reeked of cat piss. I could imagine them yelling at each other about whose turn it was to clean, then out of anger, leaving it for another day. Both suffering, but neither willing to bend from their perspective.
The cat arched his back as he scraped himself around my calves, I reached down and gave him a scratch behind the ears.
These two strangers I'd known so long ago, shared so many memories with, and yet they were stranger to me now, walking through their mess, then they had been when we first met.
Holes in the drywall, fist sized. I couldn't imagine what news could drive someone to beat up a wall, but I guess it was better than punching each other. The wall was littered with patches, I guessed this one was too fresh to have bothered.
I took note of the damage and moved on.
In the washroom I peeked. A steady drip from the sink, an empty roll on the dispenser, and a few more littered across the back tank. A cap less toothpaste and a stack of Cosmo's. I wonder if she hid in here.
The kitchen was the most disheartening part of my tour. The dishes were dirty, stacked in the sink, across the counters, on the stove. Some sort of pasta seemed glued to the wall and the broken remnants of porcelain lay shattered below. The table was stacked high with bills, flyers and lottery tickets. An ashtray overflowed amongst the waste, explaining the yellow tint on the walls and ceiling. The cat leapt onto the table, lost footing on some loose flyers, pulled the ashtray to the floor as he fell with a crash that echoed through the sad room.
By the time I looked to see if the cat was okay it had scampered scared down the hall.
I journeyed up the stairs, the rail rattled in my hand, the boards creaked under my footfall. In the silence of this place it gave me a chill, like some old horror movie, foreshadowing the horrors that may await as I crested the top of the stairs.
The cat sit watching me from a doorway. He let a long meow out as he stared me down, then quickly turned and darted into the dark bedroom. I almost didn't want to know what lay beyond, but the macabre fascination that makes one slow down to look at car wrecks drove me to further investigation. I'd come this far.
The smell hit me first. It reeked of sex and spoiled meat. As I reached for the light switch I could hear a faint humming. Turning on the lights I realized it was from the mass of flies which had culminated in the dark room. A half eaten sandwich lie on the bedside table that looked so awful even the cat wouldn't touch it. It festered with maggots and the flies they begat. I covered my mouth and approached the cat perched upon the edge of the bed. I went to scratch behind its ears, but it swatted me with his claws, hissed, then darted off to the ensuite.
I don't know I can tell you what I came upon next. The horror of it would keep one up many a night, the very recollection of it makes me feel queasy and sad and angry. The smells of the house were muted by this rancorous stench of death, and as I opened the door to the washroom I found the bedeviled source.
She lay in the bath naked, bloated, who knows how long. Bruises covered her swollen body; there was no blood, which I found odd. The cat lay curled on the floor by her feet which hung out the top of the tub and were littered with flies. Her eyes were inhabited by something, which on closer inspection was festering colonies of maggots. I couldn't stomach it any further, I dashed out the door, lunged down the steps nearly losing my balance, mind racing, not concentrating on my feet, I stumbled and tried to right myself with the handrail which broke free from the wall. My head crashed off a wall between two plastered patches and I... I really don't know... Blackness. A taste of metal in my mouth, a long silence broken by my eyes fluttering.
It had been a dream. Just a dream. A nightmare. I looked around and realized I had been here before. The broken ashtray on the kitchen floor. Why couldn't I move my arms? I heard a soft purr as the cats tail worked its way out from beneath my chair. How had I gotten there? I heard steps coming from the stairs. Solid heavy steps which made the floor boards wince under the weight of them. He came into the room and I looked at him. I could see the anger, the hate which filled his eyes. Only hours ago I would have considered him an old friend. What had become of him? Of her?
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?!"
We shouted simultaneously, but before either of us could consider what this could possibly mean, a solid left hook was the death of me.