The Cat Killer
Prologue
Sarah Anderson had long blown hair and very pale skin. Her mother had been English, her father Polish, hence the skin colour and hair. She'd, however, always been Australian. Had lived in Melbourne since she was born and she loved it there. Now, 26, she couldn't imagine living anywhere else. There was just something about the city that always made her smile, always made her happy to be alive.
That Thursday night she was walking home from work, taking the usual route down two backstreets and across the park, when her phone rang. She frowned at the number then cancelled the call. Five minutes later, as she got halfway down the street, it rang again. This time she picked it up.
"Josh, I told you to leave me alone." She growled into the mobile. Josh didn't seem to take the hint and she sighed. "Please just leave me alone Josh." Then she hung up on him, turning her phone off and putting it in her bag.
Tears in her eyes she didn't notice the cat running across her path until she nearly stepped on it. She let out a small cry and took a step back. Then she realised what it was. "Oh, god, kittie you scared me." She smiled at it and bent down to scratch it's chin. It purred contently. Then, standing up, Sarah continued home.
***
Joy Robinson was down in Melbourne for work. Hailing from Sydney she didn't like the city one bit. It just wasn't right. In Sydney it was always sunny and always nice. But down here it was cold and always raining. Pulling her scarf around her neck tighter, she re-shouldered her bag and continued on her way.
It was a frosty Friday night as she made her way out of the train station and into the street. Slowly the other people around her disappeared into the darkness, or lost between the throngs of people heading for the train station to enjoy their Friday night, and Joy started off down a nearby street.
Outside her house she stopped when she saw the upstairs light was on. She sighed. Her sister was home. Joy hated her sister and had her sister not offered Joy a home in Melbourne she never would've taken it. Both a carbon copy of their mother, they should've been closer, but they weren't. Joy was too much like their father - stubborn and hostile. She stepped into the light of the room and searched in her bag for her keys, intending to enter the house as quietly as possible and hopefully not attract the attention of her sister.
She stopped when she noticed the cat sitting at the bottom of the stairs. She smiled at it then, finding her keys, stepped inside the house and shut the door.