By Rina
Demeter screamed.
It had been something she’d been concentrating on trying not to do, really, but in the past couple of months it had been getting harder and harder. It was worse when she screamed.
Shaking, she backed into the corner of her “chamber,” the sound of her claws dragging along the floor muffled by the thick Persian rug covering it.
“You look so cute when you’re scared,” Macavity observed, each of his more ponderous footsteps like an explosion in Demeter’s mind. “But I liked you better when you still thought you could escape.”
Screwing her eyes shut, Demeter bit down on her lip to strangle the scream that was trying desperately to success the first. It was worse when she screamed.
All her efforts were nearly wasted when Macavity’s arm suddenly shot out to grab her own and twist her roughly towards him. “Scream all you want, babe,” he whispered, his breath hot and sour against her ear. “Because if you do, no one can hear you.”
And Demeter screamed.
It was worse when she screamed...