“Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I feed Buttercup the entrails. He has stopped hissing at me.Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.”

“Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.”

“I take a few breaths to calm myself, step back, and lift Buttercup by the scruff of the neck. "I should've drowned you when I had the chance." His ears flatten and he raises a paw. I hiss before he gets a chance, which seems to annoy him a little, since he considers hissing his own personal sound of contempt.”

“When my enemies stop hissing, I shall know I'm slipping.”

“Roger, he has a chain saw," I hissed. "I am not going to die in Kentucky!”

“She's not here," I tell him. Buttercup hisses again. "She's not here. You can hiss all you like. You won't find Prim." At her name, he perks up. Raises his flattened ears. Begins to meow hopefully. "Get out!" He dodges the pillow I throw at him. "Go away! There's nothing left for you here!" I start to shake, furious with him. "She's not coming back! She's never ever coming back here again!" I grab another pillow and get to my feet to improve my aim. Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. "She's dead, you stupid cat. She's dead.”