Jon snickered as he pulled the knife out. He eagerly watched as he soft light reflected off of it. The ever-present shine that shifted as he moved it, the cool metal - it was downright erotic. Jon gingerly ran his finger across the sharp edge of the blade. He was most satisfied when he felt the sting of the shallow cut it made. Perfect, Jon thought darkly. Perfect...

He creeped from his place on the kitchen floor and crawled through the hallways. He knew Liz's house well - he recognized every discolored tile, every creaky step of her stairs, and - most certainly - every last vestige of vomit on her bathroom floor.

Ah, finally, thought Jon. There it was, Liz' body, lying supine on the floor. Her limbs were splayed out around her, and Jon couldn't help but be entranced. With the bright lights in the room, her dull gray skin appeared to be transparent. It looked paper-thin - he could almost map out every single vein and capillary that stretched through her body. He couldn't help but lick his chapped lips.

She had lost her warmth and her radiance - all left was a shell of what she once was. Jon twitched his nose. Liz had was surrounded by a pungent scent that - from his experience - he knew was only produced the deceased.

He inhaled deeply. God, he loved that smell - he could practically feel his mouth water. Jon gripped the handle of his knife tightly, and - with tenderness - he pressed it against the skin of her stomach. In a slow movement, he slid the knife across. Jon had spent time sharpening it, preparing for this moment. It oozed with dark, purplish blood, that slowly seeped onto the floor. Jon took a closer look to see it accompanied with a vivid orange with an almost furry texture.

Jon blinked.

Orange? Furry?

He tentatively reached towards the incision. It was the exact moment when a long, dark figure erupted from her stomach. He watched in horror as her torso rippled - the skin tearing apart, revealing pink muscle and the white bones.

It appeared to be a creature, covered in a shaggy orange-brown coat. Around its torso was a plethora of arms that violently groped the air. However, it lacked any feet of sorts, giving the impression of a snake. It slithered around Jon, wrapping his body tightly. Jon - despite how his arms quivered - craned his neck up to see the beast's face. His eyes widened.

The monster's visage had feline features, a smug smile, and plump cheeks. Along the sides of its head were short, dark stripes. It had a pale pink nose that twitched lightly, as if detecting a familiar odor. Its eyes however, made Jon whimper softly. They were large and eclipsed all of the other features on the creature's face. Small, black pupils bounced around the room, but always lingered on Liz' burst stomach. Jon had seen that face before...

"G-garfield?!" Jon spluttered, struggling to breathe with the pressure against his chest. In a deliberate motion, the creature's mouth curved into a dangerous smirk. It bend its long neck down to Jon's face - breath hot against his cheeks.

Jon couldn't believe his eyes. This can't be Garfield, right? This… demon... He remembers the satisfying squelch when he stabbed that damn cat vividly. He remembers the shrieks, and how that animal writhed and mewled pathetically. Fur matted with blood, and lined with deep wounds that dribbled crimson. It was one of the few times in his life that Jon was truly pleased with himself. One of the few times Jon felt powerful.

"I'm sorry, Jon…" The lilt in Garfield's voice grated against Jon's ear. He was taunting Jon - not a hint of forgiveness in the rumble of his throat."You thought you could get rid of me, huh? But, as with everything, you're just pitiful." There was venom in the way he accentuated the last word.

Garfield opened his mouth to reveal a pointed, black tongue. He licked Jon's chin slowly and made circles of saliva along his jaw. To Jon, it felt like acid, burning against his skin. The liquid ran down his neck, and fell onto his chest.

"Shut the fuck up!" screamed Jon, struggling against the creature. "You- you know nothing about me! I am not pitiful! I am not pitiful- I AM NOT PITIFUL!" His shrieks reverberated throughout the bathroom; the noise bounced against each painfully thin wall. Garfield chuckled softly.

"Don't try to fool yourself, Jon. We all know what a mistake you are…" he crooned. "Even Liz.." Garfield unraveled his body from Jon's waist and slinked over to the corpse. Jon gasped, taking shallow breaths. Garfield grinned, seeing the way the man's eyes watered.

Garfield seized Liz' body and propped her against the wall. Her head lolled back onto it, producing an audible thud. His gaze was stuck on Liz, and for a moment, he was struck again by her beauty. Even while decomposing she was beautiful. He almost feel bad for what he did to her, but, then again, he really doesn't.

His eyes trailed to Garfield, who was giggling to himself quietly. Jon furrowed his eyebrows. What the hell is he doing? Jon was noted with dread the way his laughter transformed into a chant of sorts. It was surely… demonic. His eyes were closed tightly in concentration, from what Jon could discern.

Jon was truly thrown out of his observations when he saw Liz' body float. Float. Her body made an upside-down 'V' - a supernatural position - without doubt. Jon winced when he heard her torso make contact with the ceiling. The gash in her stomach produced a stain onto the flaky white paint. Her thins arms and long legs trembled, and, so did Jon's.

What the everlasting shit-fuck did Garfield do!? Jon was almost ashamed by his high-pitched scream. He watched as her body dropped in a haste fall. She scratched the floor with her sharp nails, and groaned loudly. She thrashed her body against the floor, leaving splinters embedded in her skin. Jon whipped his head to Garfield.

"This is your punishment Jon, for being a pathetic virgin. For thinking you could overcome me with your simple mortal ways." seethed the creature, "You see, in this world, you are but an insect." Garfield opened his mouth to reveal several rows of pointed teeth, "Don't forget your place, pest."

"I-I'm not an insect…" Jon stammered, "I'm not an insect!" He opened his mouth to continue before he felt his body wracked by painful sobs. He fell onto the floor and into a fetal position. Why me? WHY ME? All I wanted was control!

Liz limped over to the corner and grabbed Jon's forgotten knife. Sluggishly, she crawled over to his body and raised her hands. The metal pierced slowly pierced his back; Jon, helpless, could only watch in pain. His blue shirt turned purple. Liz twisted the handle, the impetus for a guttural cry. She snickered lightly and grasped his ankle. Her fingernails left deep crescents in his tender skin. He shakily pulled her hand off.

Jon scrambled on the floor before finding his footing. His tears were constant as he sprinted out of the room. He slid through the hallways and dashed out of the half-open door. The searing pain was unbearable and Jon could barely continue. He looked back slightly to see her following him through the sidewalk. He was screwed.

"Get away from me!" he panted, "Please I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Go away!" He felt his throat constrict at the thought of Liz reaching him. His eyelids felt heavy, and so did his legs. He was never really that good at running. In school, he always was the last person to finish in the mile. He simply lacked the stamina, and too much movement would leave him exhausted and miserable. He never won any race, nor any game of tag. He collapsed onto the sidewalk, his face pressed flush against the concrete.

He felt a hand on his calf.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Sweetheart!"

"Why was that man screaming behind him? There was nothing there…"

"Oh, well… Some people, they, well... They see the world differently than us. And some people need more help than others. But remember, never follow strange men!"

"Okay, Mommy!"