"No, no, no," I whispered, staggering to my feet.
Racing upstairs, I threw open the door to my bedroom and froze at the threshold.
Jinx, my beloved cat who'd been my only comfort during years of a loveless marriage lay motionless on the blood-soaked sheets. Beside her sat Tara, scissors in hand, carefully removing strips of fur from my pet's lifeless body.
"Oh, you're awake!" Tara smiled, holding up a patch of orange and white fur. "Hope you don't mind. I've always wanted a fur-lined coat, and your cat had the most beautiful coloring."
I snapped. I ran forward with my fist connecting with Tara's face before she could react.
She fell back and slid on Jinx's blood, her white dress now stained red as she crashed hard onto the floor.
Tara held her nose, blood streaming between her fingers and dripping onto her white dress.
"You filthy, pathetic bitch!" she screamed and her eyes was wild with rage. "How dare you touch me!"
I stood over her and shook with rage. "You killed my cat!"
"A dirty little nobody like you dared to lay a hand on me?" Tara scrambled backward. "I've never been touched like this, not even by my own stepbrother!"
"Get out of my house," I growled, tears streaming down my face.
"Oh, you'll pay for this," Tara hissed as she struggled to her feet. "You'll regret ever crossing me."
She stormed out, leaving bloody handprints on the doorframe. I turned back to Jinx's lifeless body, gently wrapping her in a clean blanket as I carried her outside to the garden.
I dug a small grave below the tree where she used to watch birds. With every shovelful of dirt, I felt more alone. Jinx had been my only true companion during those empty years with Derek. Now even she was gone.
When I finished, I went to shower off the dirt and blood. The water had barely turned warm when I smelled it, smoke.
I threw on clothes and raced downstairs, following the scent until I burst through the front door. My heart stopped.
My design studio, the small building where I'd created every piece of clothing I'd ever sold was engulfed in fire. Five years of work, fabric, and designs burning before my eyes. My car sat in front, also consumed by fire, its metal frame glowing orange.
Tara stood on the lawn, a red gas can dangling from her fingers. Her nose had stopped bleeding but was swollen to twice its normal size.