It was an infatuation. A disgusting infatuation.

I clasped my hand into a fist and ground it against my cranium, attempting to pry the memories open. My brain seemed to be using all its might to both suppress and withdraw the imagery at the same time. This conflicting effect resulted in a splitting fever and a break out of hives on my neck and arms.

Feeling as though I would go insane if I lay there any longer, I slid off the covers and carefully directed Sarah's arm away from my chest. I held my breath as she appeared to stir from her sleep, her mouth opening as if to say something before her body twisted in the sheets to face the other end. I breathed a sigh and sat up, placing my feet onto the cold floor.

I immediately noticed that the dog hairs were not just in abundance of where Milo always slept, but the entire room instead. I wondered if I had ever noticed this problem in the past. Milo was probably just getting older and shedding a lot more, but still, this was ridiculous. There were literally a hundred dog hairs glistening in the moonlight every square foot of the room.

I groaned and licked my chapped lips, discovering for the first time how incredibly thirsty I had been. Maybe that was why I couldn't remember things properly. Thirst. Laughing quietly to myself, I shambled drowsily towards Sarah's makeup table, where we keep the water jug.

Quarter full. I slumped onto the cushioned chair and brought out the glass from the drawer. It would have to do. As I reached out for the jar’s handle, something stopped me. There was a brief delay as I tried to decipher what it had been.

It was a smell. A smell and a pain. Searing pain which shot into my forehead and stabbed deep into the heart of my memories. I was reminded of something.

-

Yes, an infatuation.

Kevin became stronger. The mice I fed him not only regained the blood like glow in his complexion, but also transcended both the external and internal aspects of his body. I watched the eye heal from just two days of feeding, watched as the skin tightened and grew taut around an increasingly compact frame, watched as the arms shed skin and meat to shrink into sturdier, fibrous clawed limbs. The most fascinating again being the head, completely transformed from its former self, with the beak now morphing and extending into the elongated jaw of a rat.

Apparently my inquisitions had proved accurate; and Kevin could somehow assimilate the form of the organism he consumes. He was, however, not perfect at it.

From the half bird, half mouse amalgamation to the slightly feathered rodent creature it had become, it was clear that Kevin, like every other animal, needed to hone his curious ability for a better execution – the system of 'practice makes perfect'.

At this stage, I noticed the increasing similarities to its feed, but despite its spot on facial structure, perfect white hair and trotters, there was always something off. I had seen it in Lily’s transformation, and I still see it now after the improvements had sat in.

There was no placing a finger on it, but it was just always there – whether it be the dark vacant look in his eyes, the erratic movement of his skin, or the way he twitched his head, it was there. If he was thrown in a swarm of identical mice, I would be able to single him out with confidence.

'Horrifyingly glorious' was the way to put it.

I remembered telling myself how rich I was going to be if I pulled this off, how the documentary I had been filming had just turned from millionaire to billionaire status within just 3 days.

I fantasized the fame and fortune, fantasized about the excelling relationship between me and Sarah.

What I had unwittingly forgotten however, was the darkness that came along with it. A darkness which would be relived the following day.

It was the weekend, and I had to go back to stay with Sarah in the suburbs, but I couldn't leave Kevin alone - especially not with my substitute caretaker. I hadn't yet told her of the creature, not because I didn't trust her, but because I was afraid of her disapproval. We have always been incredibly honest in our relationship, but for my wife to know about Kevin would mean she would also have to know about the creature’s diet - and the recent passing of Lily.

Those two pieces of information did not go well with one another.

Knowing Sarah, she would have crucified Kevin for touching ANY of the animals in our shop, much less beloved Lily - and don't get me wrong; it was a trait I loved her very dearly for. Unfortunately, this matter was neither of passion nor morality, and to have her become involved seemed unwise and unethical for both our marriage and Kevin's well-being. There was a right time for everything, and this wasn't one of them.

It just wasn't.

For the past 4 weeks or so I've been avoiding our weekends together to take care of Kevin. I blamed it on having to tend to untimely pitch meetings and animal emergencies, but by the third excuse, her voice had already become coated in skepticism. She had every right to her suspicions, and I knew this. Even now, the pangs of guilt were already becoming unbearable and were eating away at my withering conscience.

This week however, I had to be smart and compromise, maybe tell her I could be back for just one day. That way, the tension can be cleared up a little, and maybe she would hate me less when I reveal to her what had actually been going on in the store. Maybe she would find a way to understand.

It was strange how every other memory remains blurred and undefined and yet her words still resonated as vividly as ever.

"Honey..."

"No. It's just… no."

"I’ll be fired."

"So let them."

"...Do you mean that?"

"No. I don't. But I miss you Ryan. I want to see you."

"…I’ll be home Saturday."

"Just Saturday."

"It’s the best I can do."

"You’re lying.”

"No."

"Prove it."

"Don’t be like this. It’s for us, our future.”

"I only see you weekends, is that too much to ask?”

"Do you think I like it? Do you think Dean would give me any other choice?”

" ...... ”

“Please, Sarah.”

“….Will this be the last time?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.

”……”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay."

“I love you.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

-

I cringed my nose. The stench was getting worse, and it was affecting my headache. Where had it come from? Was it the water? I brought the jar to my nose and took a whiff. The colorless liquid that sloshed around the bottom had never looked so revolting.

I turned my head and inhaled deeply, pinpointing its origin from a place further away, across the room. It was coming from the bed.

-

I vowed to tell her the truth next week, swore on my life. I wasn't sure how I would break it out, but it didn't matter. Being a liar and raising Lily’s killer was a lot better than being suspected of having an affair - and I was not willing to bring this any further than it was.

But I wasn't going to say anything that Saturday. No, I would spend the precious time we had together to reconnect, let her know that things were all going to be okay – that everything was going to be fine.

Ironically, it was the only thing I did not regret.

When I returned back to the shop on Sunday morning, there were no barks or purrs to greet me at the door. There was only a sound I had become all too accustomed with whilst living with Kevin. Uncanny silence. And a lot of blood.

There was no mystery behind it, no misconceptions. The animals that were still whole lay rigid within their confinements, their sordid eyes following me as I stumbled into the carnage.

I counted 4 of my dog cages busted open. 3 of their bodies were strewn about the corners of my store, their skulls split open in a way that looks as if they had been bludgeoned by a dull axe. The last body was what I assumed left the trail of blood leading up into my living quarters.

I made sure the room was empty before grabbing the letter opener from my desk. I then moved the bodies of the terrier and the two shepherds out of sight by aligning them behind the counter, covering them in a sheet. Their bodies had already begun to stink considerably and I would have to dispose of them as quickly as possible if I didn’t want it to linger. I then made sure the blinds of the store were shut tight. If anyone were to see the deceased animals, things would get ugly.

Now came the tricky part.

Kevin had never once bit me. I didn't know if he could perceive the boundaries between master and pet, or if his instincts centered upon the concept of not biting the hand that feeds you – but regardless, it was an undeniable fact that he had never engaged me with anything other than compliance.

I thought back toward his ‘larval’ stage, and the blood I fed him. Did it imprint some kind of understanding into his DNA?

Did it enable him to distinguish me differently from the others he consumes?

It was an asinine and impractical idea, but the fine line between reality and fantasy has been crossed many times now, and holding onto unlikely hope felt so much better than flying blind. Anything that could help boost my spirits at the moment were welcome.

Mickey was the fourth dog; Mickey was a 100 pound Rottweiler.

From the amount of scratch marks along the staircase, I could tell the dog had put up a fight – and from the disembodied leg blocking the entrance to the open door, I could tell it wasn't enough.I gripped the short blade in my hand and raised it into a poised, striking position.

Only the huge Rottweiler’s body was visible as I stepped into the room, his head obstructed from view within Kevin's cage. I was thankful for that. The body writhing along with the symphony of crackling noises that emanated from the carrier was enough to incite my imagination to its morbid satisfaction.

I took a step in, my foot squeaking against a pool of blood. The noises stopped.

Mickey’s head was pushed out, his skull split down the middle like the others, jaw hanging loosely from a single end.

Then Kevin emerged. I wasn't sure what I had been expecting at the time, but what had eaten my animals looked nothing like the creature I had pictured in my head. There was no pulsating skin, no exposed rib cage. Kevin looked… well…….like Mickey. Mickey, with lighter, grayer fur and blood foaming from the mouth.

He stood there, poised like some kind of tainted liger in mid – stalk, his muscular, attack dog appendages straining in anticipation for the taste of my flesh. It was clear then that the small shiv in my hand would do little against the hide of the monster before me, and that my skin would give way like melted butter against those skull crushing jaws.

I took a step back as Kevin took a step forward. ‘No, this wasn't how it was going to end’, I told myself. Even if he kills me, even if he tears into me while I was still conscious, I will make sure to dig my blade as far as I could into that gaudy throat of his. Finish what I had started, so that no one else could suffer from my undoing. His dark lifeless eyes seemed to grow bigger as he examined me, assessing the level of threat I posed. His ears rose. His teeth sunk back into his blood-stained lips.

No, there was no way. Kevin, without shifting his locked gaze, began waving his tail back and forth, his head cocking slightly to one side.

‘Down’, I gasped instinctively.

Kevin lay flat onto the floor.