Alley Cat
The Birth of Helene

I pounce on Todd’s chubby body and stamp on him repeatedly, but he refuses to budge. It’s frustrating. His snores continue to shake the cardboard box and his feline face conveys the kind of peace you get from a blissful dream. It’s as if my needle-thin claws mean nothing to his thick folds of skin. I groan.

“Todddd! I’m bored!”

My whining puts his snoring on hold, which gives me hope, only to return again but louder and more tumultuous. Annoyed, I kick his cardboard box with my hind legs. The force causes the box to tip over. Todd spills out along with our blanket. It wakes him up and he does a classic cat stretch before scratching his ear.

Alright, you got my attention, he says with a yawn.

“Good,” I say while trying to conceal my smug grin. “’Cus I spent the whole day hiding buckets of water in every tree at Central Park and I want you to help me ruin a couple people’s day.”

Todd lets out a tiresome sigh before rearranging the cardboard box. No thanks. I’m going back to sleep.

“You’ve slept the whole day!”

Yeah! Until you interrupted my precious sleep.

“Please Todd! It’ll be some good exercise! If we work hard enough, you’ll burn some fat!”

Todd hisses; I’ve offended him, clearly. My fat keeps me warm in the Winter.

“It’s Summer!”

It’s called early preparation! You should try it sometime.

I can’t help but roll my eyes. Then I wonder if it’s myself that I should be rolling my eyes at. It has only been about a month, and I’m already becoming dependent on him. I used to be fine doing things on my own until I met Todd. Then I found out that doing things with someone else made it so much more fun. Shame nips at my sides. I should stop myself before it’s too late.

“Suit yourself,” I say, trying not to care. “I hope animal control takes you when you’re deep asleep.”

It succeeds in fulfilling its intended effect and deters Todd from returning back to his slumber. Todd produces another relinquishing sigh. Fine. I’ll go splash some humans with you. But on one condition. His voice falters with suspenseful tension.

“And what’s that?”

You have to tell me how you became a werecat.

All the excitement that I initially felt leaves me in an instant. I feel my blood run cold. “That’s not fair.”

But I thought that we’re friends now.

“We are!”

Then why can’t you just tell me? Because this isn’t the first time I’ve asked you this.

I feel my whole body tremble down to my paws. “Because it hurts, okay?”

Todd feels a wave of remorse rush over him and winces. Look, if it hurts––

“It’s fine!” My voice hardens with icy bitterness. “You wanted a story? I’ll tell you a story. It started when I was twelve years old…”

It was 1142 A.D. I was just some village girl living in Nepal, nothing special. One day I woke up in my hut bleeding between my legs. No one ever told me about periods, so I did what any other girl my age would do. I thought I was dying and told my mom, who told my dad, who told the rest of my family. I still remember the look of disgust and pity on his face.

They built a small shed for me not too far from the house. I was told to stay there until the bleeding stopped. And I would have to return there every month when the bleeding started again. I couldn’t leave. My family didn’t want me to touch the crops or curse the house. Apparently, my bleeding was shameful. And if the gods were to see me, I would offend them too.

I was brought food from my siblings. When the winters were especially harsh in the mountains, I would have to build a fire within the shed and pray that everything doesn’t burn down or that I don’t die from smoke inhalation. I hated myself. I hated having no control over something that my body did.

And like all tragic stories, it gets worse. I overheard my family talking about an arrangement, a marital arrangement. I was to marry a man from a neighboring tribe. The wedding went by fast. I barely had any time to admire my colorful robes before he undressed me that night. I didn’t want to. I begged him to give me some time, to perhaps wait until I was a little older. I never felt so much fear and pain in all of my nine lives. Of course, I never knew that I would live so many times. This was my first life. First lives were always human. First lives were always the most painful, the most tragic.

I didn’t bleed after we consummated. My husband felt cheated of his dowry money. He accused me of being a whore and I was speechless as to how it could be. The pain I felt between my legs was there. The soreness was real. I was willing to cut myself to make the problem go away...but it didn’t. My husband rushed off on horseback to my family’s village to tell them of my deceit.

So like all women of my plight, I was faced with a choice: to either end my life or let him destroy it. I chose the prior. My husband found me dead on our marital bed with my wrists slit. And as much as I hate it, he got what he wanted. He wanted blood, so I gave him blood. My crimson blood stained every crevice of our off-white sheets. The smell of me urged him to vomit his insides out.

I don’t know if my parents ever planned to give me a proper burial; I just know that they never had the chance to. Flames spontaneously burst from my corpse, consuming me and my bloodied sheets and converting me to blaze. I remember opening my eyes, now a hellish emerald green, and gasping. My new feline teeth felt strange in my mouth. Black hair covered my skin and a long black tail grew from my back. I was reborn and made anew through fire and ash. And I was angry.

Everything else was a blur. I may or may not have stabbed my husband with my claws and sent the village on a witch hunt for the next ten years. Despite the missing details, this is the story of my first life, of the time when I was innocent and human. This was the birth of Helene.

Todd is rendered speechless, not that I can blame him. I haven’t told the story to anyone else in a long time. I patiently wait for a reaction, and I see it. Todd’s gray eyes cloud over like an incoming storm. It’s a transfixing gaze of pity, the kind you give to puppies with missing limbs and homeless people and terminally ill children––the stuff that makes me sick.

“You really don’t have to look at me like that.”

Sorry! Todd jumps. He’s shaken and climbs out of his thoughts. Sorry. I’m sorry for asking.

“Don’t be.” I put on a brave face and try to forget about the girl, the girl that was forced to make a terrible choice. She’s gone and I’m here. “There’s a lot of buckets hanging at Central Park. It would be a shame if there was no one to knock them down…”

Todd runs over to me, nuzzles my face with his, and lets out the most ridiculous rumbling purr. I’m the one that has to pull away. “Gross. C’mon. I’ll race ya!”

Todd groans with dread. You know I don’t like to run!”

I end up having to revert back to my human form and carry Todd in my arms. I run fast, but no one notices. Nine lives is a lot of time to learn how to lay low. I’ve learned how to be invasive, invisible. Unlike werewolves, we put more thought into every step. We run in the shadows and conceal ourselves in darkness even during the brightest time of day. If you were to come across us by accident, you wouldn’t even know it.

By the time we reach Central Park, I drop Todd from my arms. He lands on all fours, but still finds some shred of dignity to be offended. I can only laugh and lead him to our first spot. To anyone who has never been to Central Park, it’s huge and I love it. Within New York’s endless blanket of gray concrete and skyscrapers, there’s a whole patch of green in the middle with trees, ponds, castles, bridges, and the woods! I love the woods. The green and the shrubbery vaguely resemble home. Even though I like to think that the village girl inside me is dead, the green wakes her up again. I feel so much peace at the smell of wild grass.

I shift back to my cat form and lead Todd to the pond where we climb a tall tree. Todd’s slower than me. I try to slow down for him, but the essence of nature invigorates my blood. It stimulates my agility and I find myself pouncing from branch to branch until I’m high up. A bucket full of water hangs off the tree branch I sit on, and I look down to enjoy the view.

People look like ants, and it makes me smile. Not so big and scary now, are ya? I think to myself. It’s not that I’m scared of them or anything. It’s just that seeing them this small takes away their power. I forget that they can call animal control on me or of all the other things they’ve done to hurt me. I forget how they hurt each other and point shaking fingers as if they, themselves, were victims.

A dark thought crosses my mind. I don’t need to destroy them. I can watch them destroy each other.

After what feels like an eternity, Todd arrives. His pink tongue flops out of his mouth as he pants and his barrel-like chest rises and falls with dramatic movements in his fatigue. Todd sploots on our shared tree branch, his hind paws nearly knocks over the bucket of water.

“Careful Todd! You’re gonna knock it over!”

Todd groans and scoots an inch closer to me. Every movement is a hassle. It’s like Todd is allergic to anything that requires strain...or effort. Do we really have to do this, Hel? I thought you said that your only dream is to live out the rest of your life in peace.

“This is peaceful!” I argue back.

Hel, you’re dumping water on innocent people who just want to chill at the park.

“It’s not gonna hurt ’em! Besides, it’s a hot summer’s day. That old man over there looks like he’s about to pass out from heat exhaustion.”

Todd squints down below and furrows his little blue brows at me. Hel, he’s eating ice cream.

“TODD!”

I’m just saying that this is a little too much, that’s all. I don’t want you to get into any trouble, Hel.

“It’s just a little water!”

Just like how that hot dog stand you stole was just one hot dog stand. Or the lynx cat you trapped in a dumpster wasn’t just some ten year old child that called you ‘ugly’.

“To be fair he was, in fact, a werecat. They’re like normal children but worse.”

Todd gives me a look that remotely resembles a man I once knew long, long, ago. I can’t remember his name, but he was the closest thing I ever had to a brother. It disarms me and muddles me with shame. “Fine.” I forget about the bucket. I’m sure that after a storm comes, all the buckets will fall down eventually, splashing some unsuspecting fool wandering the park after hours. Too bad I won’t be there to see it.

“So what are we going to do now Mr. Boring? Sleep the rest of the day?”

Todd gazes out into the distance at all the different areas of the park. The statues, and ponds, and bridges captivate his eyes. He says to me, Why can’t you just show me around?

My green eyes widen at his unexpected answer. “Wait, really?”

Yeah. Just keep it at walking pace though. You know how much I hate running.

I can’t help but mew in excitement and race down the tree. Todd shouts from above me. I SAID, ‘NO RUNNING’!

I take Todd to all my favorite places. We stroll along the green pond and stop to point out our reflections. We cross over the park’s long bow bridges and walk along the railing as cats do. We even hop on the heads of famous statues, earning priceless glares from tourists. The cherry blossom trees have lost almost all of their blooming pink petals, so we dart across the pink layered roads. A petal lands on Todd’s nose, and I laugh. I’ve never had so much fun.

We eventually make it to Belvedere Castle. Basically, it’s a stone castle, the kind you imagine in fairytales and stuff. It has its own moat with water on all sides and a bridge to lead you to the castle. Normally, it’s buzzing with tourists but today it’s awfully vacant. There’s not a person in sight. At first I rejoiced. Places like this are always much more beautiful without people to block every view and creating unbearable deafening noise. And then I realize that it’s never normal for it to be this quiet. Nothing’s ever quiet in New York.

Todd makes a head start and heads inside, and I tag along his side. “Slow down,” I tell him. “Something’s up.”

What? Todd looks over his shoulder at me. We stand perfectly still in the middle of the bridge. Every part of us listens. Our hair remains soft but receptive and our ears swivel around.

From within the castle, a feline growl vibrates from inside the stone walls. Todd and I jump from the shock of it. Our hairs stand, raised like we’ve been electrocuted. The strength and ferocity of the growl could only mean one thing. It could only come from a big cat, the kind that makes people run.

Without thinking, I race into the castle. Todd calls for me, but I don’t hear him. I run through the stone arches, past oblong windows, and through several rooms until I find the source of the sound. I hear two roars now. One is clearly feline and stifled with a whimper. The cat’s been injured, I know that for sure. The other is foreign and deeper, wolfish almost. It puts me off-guard and I pause. I’m surrounded by open doorways and haunting Venecian style artwork on the walls. I wait for the next sound to guide me, and I run.

By the time I arrive at the source, I stumble upon a wounded leopard sprawled out in the middle of a ballroom. She’s unconscious. A ray of sunlight penetrates through a glass window, illuminating the big cat’s injuries. The most severe injury is concentrated around the neck. Whatever beast did this had the intention to kill; it is a predator’s instinct to aim for the jugular. Bloodied teeth marks arrange themselves in rows. Two deep wounds stand out as canine punctures. The rest of the leopard’s gray and spotted body is covered in scratch marks.

I remain at a safe distance in case the leopard wakes up and mistakes me for its assailant. I wonder as to how this situation occurred. It’s not every day a leopard shows up in Central Park, let alone New York City. NYC has been lynx territory for years. Me and Todd are just the outliers.

The leopard’s eyes twitch before they flutter open and they fix upon me. I begin to back away, but I see that whatever aggression the leopard felt was gone. The leopard gives me a different look that makes me feel strange. Its icy blue eyes follow my every movement and aches with familiarity. I feel as though I know her from somewhere.

Todd runs in, panting as if he’s just finished a marathon. His scampering paws startle the leopard, but I purr to calm her down. “It’s a friend. Just a small cat like me.”

Before Todd could lecture me, the sight of the wounded leopard stops him cold. Todd’s voice stutters as he calls for me. Huh–Hel…

The leopard’s eyes roll as they close shut. The leopard passes out. I back away as the change commences. Light radiates from every pore of her body as she shrinks. Fur falls out. Spots disappear. All that’s left is a girl with waist-length hair and light brown skin. The regal features of her face trigger a lost memory in my mind. Robes of nobility once decorated her body. The flavor of her lips dances upon the tip of my tongue as I turn to face Todd.

“She’s a friend.” I answer his thoughts.

Care to be more specific? Todd could barely feign a laugh.

I try my best to smile back despite the pain. I remember what she did to me. My heart never fully healed. “Mm...I guess I could say that she was my first girlfriend.”

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