A/n: This is a rewrite of a fic I wrote a little while ago. It's rather dark, and really quite gruesome. So be warned, it's rated M for a reason. Namely gore, and some swearing. It was inspired by Down With the Sickness by Disturbed, one of my favourite songs. It moves at a rather fast pace, but aside from that I think it's best if you just read to find out what's going on. Enjoy, and let me know if you like it or not, constructive reviews make me happy. The original version can also be found at the Bordello, and on my site.

Disclaimer: I don't own Cats, I own any OC's in this but they don't tend to be around much, and I don't own the song Down With The Sickness either. Also I'm claiming the story concept! So there!

The Sickness

Prologue – Suddenly It Changes

What have I done?

He stares back at me, his lifeless eyes accuse me. I can't stand to look but neither can I tear my eyes away. The pool of crimson expands so slowly, surrounding him in his own blood, staining his fur. He accuses me still, silent and unmoving yet he screams at me, reminding me of what I have done. Ice runs down my spine, making me shiver but still I cannot turn away. It doesn't make any sense, how could I do this?

Why? Why did I kill him? I didn't know him, he hadn't done anything wrong. He did start the fight, refused to back down even though it was clear that I had won. I certainly have now. He shouldn't have done that, he shouldn't have said what he did but that's no excuse to kill him. I should have stayed my paw, held back that final blow. Self-defence is one thing but nothing gives me the right to murder in cold blood, does it?

I have blood on my paws and not just metaphorically speaking. I resist the urge to clean them no longer, I have no choice. I feel the blood coating my paws, warm and sticky, cooling fast in the chilled night air. The scent of death hangs heavy on the air, taunting me. His dying breath replays in my mind; over and over I hear the coughing and gurgling as he chokes on his own life. I taste it, the metallic flavour of his blood coats my tongue as I fight to get clean. A shudder, as yet another wave of nausea comes over me, I can't suppress it any longer…

It doesn't help. I can't rid myself of this so easily. What am I going to do? I can't let anyone find out about this. In my mind I see Munkustrap's face, Cassandra's, my friends. I see my own horror reflected in their eyes. I don't want to hurt them like that, they can never know what I've done.

What if they found out? How could I explain what I've done? How could I do it? I didn't want to kill him, I didn't plan it. He pissed me off, I lost control. He refused to back down and it, it came naturally. Instinct. Surely it couldn't have been, cold-blooded murder is not something a normal cat does by instinct. So what am I then?

I had a choice. That split second before I- I could have stopped it. I should have stopped it. Why didn't I? At that moment, I controlled his fate, held his life in my paws. I was the one to decide to end his life. Holding that much power, even for one brief moment, I felt like a god. Then again, only a god should be able to wield that kind of power. It was intoxicating, amazing…

Wrong. It was wrong, I shouldn't be allowed to feel like that. I don't want to feel like that again. Do I? No, that's not who I am. I can't, I'm not going to. It won't happen again.

How long have I been sitting here? Looking up, I see the first rays of sunlight coming over the horizon, it's already dawn and I'm still here. It's starting to smell bad now, I'd almost hoped he would have disappeared. Maybe just got up and walked away, then I wouldn't be stuck in this nightmare. Wishful thinking. It's real, I killed him and he's not going to just walk away from that.

I need to do something. The smell, the blood… it'll attract attention. It won't be long before the humans invade the streets once more, rushing about like they always do. With them come the dogs, maybe even other cats. I have to hide what I've done, then I have to get out of here before anyone sees me. The longer before he's found, the better.