Catscratch 〈HIGH-QUALITY〉

He stumbled back. The basement door swung shut on its own. The deadbolt clicked.

He pressed his ear to the cold wood. The voice was soft, dry, like paper being torn. It was not Scratch’s voice. Scratch had no voice. Scratch only had claws. Catscratch

Leo tried to scream, but something soft and firm pressed against his mouth. A paw? A hand? No—a scratch . Three shallow lines of fire across his lips. He stumbled back

The basement had been off-limits since the day Leo moved in. Grandma’s final note, taped to the door, read: “Leo, whatever you do, do not open this door. Feed the cat. Trust the cat.” taped to the door