I drive past her to and from work five days a week, and I mentally prepare myself every time, promising over and over that I won't even bother looking. But when the time comes, I always do, and then the sensations arrest me, flashing before my eyes in a wave of euphoric pleasure. Her slick juices dripping down my chin, savoury flavours smothering my face— I want to stop, need to avoid, must remain disciplined, have to stay away, but I can't find the strength, and I devour her as tears well up in my eyes.

        It was just a cat. That's what the prick kid tried to tell me during questioning. It didn't take long. He broke quickly. Most of them do. It wasn't long before he gave up the names of the two others who participated. And he told me the whole story:

        "It was just a cat."

        There was a heavy pause.

        "Yeah, so... it was just a cat, but— but anyway, it was one of the cats that's always hanging around the farm. There's tons of them. And it was nothing special. I mean, the cat didn't stand out in any way. Just a cat. A farm cat, y'know? And no one cared about it. Derek's dad feeds them, but only so they'll hang around and kill the mice. I wouldn't do it to a real family cat. I'm not nuts. I don't even care, man. Like, I care. But like, what do you care?"

        "I just care about hearing the truth."

        "The truth is I stabbed the cat. We did. We all did it. And I wasn't first. I didn't start it... Derek's mom is so obsessed with cats. If you go in her house, it's all just pictures of cats and Jesus. It's just weird. Blankets tacked on walls. Jesus and cats. And she never pays any attention to Derek. He gets so pissed about it. She just loves those barn cats. So we snatched one up and got it with our pocket knifes."

        "Knives."

        "Yeah."

        "And?"

        "And... we probably stabbed the stupid thing 12 or 15 times, and it didn't bleed as bad as I thought until we started twisting. Derek's idea. It made crying noises at first. It wailed a bit. And—"

        "And did you ever feel any guilt?"

        "There was one sec. There was a sec there where it made a noise like a baby. Like it was a human."

        "And then you felt guilty for what you'd done to it?"

        "What? No. Well, naw. I mean, I'm just telling you 'the truth' like you said. But, it was just a cat."

        People get offended cuz I don't got the same dreams as them.

        When they found out what I can do, they started running their tests on me, tryna teach me how to use it better. How to use it the way they wanna use it. I never cared.

        I hate the flashcards. They don't mean anything and they don't look like anything neither. I hate all the wires and those suction cups they put all over my head. I hate all the people just staring at me, taking notes. They never smile.

        Before, it was just a thing I showed to my friends, or I saved it for when people really deserved it. Then it became this whole big thing.

        People always ask me why? and why not? and how come? and why wouldn't you? I hate answering questions— I do enough of that at school. And I don't like school either.

        When I helped that kid last week, they said you saved his life! and right away I wished I wouldn'ta done it. So much attention. More new tests, more new questions, more new expectations.

        Ain't no one ever ask me what I ask for. Not this. Nobody ever says did you want any of this?