She stared down. Curled in a ball was a little black kitten.

‘Hello,’ she cooed. ‘I’m Bethan.’

She patted the kitten. It was wet, and she lifted her hand covered with crimson red.

She screamed, and her father and sister came barrelling out the door. Their eyes darted to the sleeping kitten. Henry bit his lip; he soothed Bethan by rubbing a hand on her shoulder.

‘It’s dead,’ Dana stated.

Her father glared at her.

‘No, he isn’t,’ Bethan said, stamping her foot. ‘It was scratching at my door to come in. He’s alive. I can make him alive.’

Her father picked up the small kitten and saw the blood; he shook his head.

‘It must be from the litter we found under the house last week.’ He stared down at his youngest daughter and gave her a look of sympathy. ‘It’s not breathing, pumpkin.’

‘I told you it was dead,’ Dana spat.

Her father shot her another glare. ‘She’s younger than you. She doesn’t understand. Be nicer.’

Dana’s mouth zipped shut.

‘The poor thing is covered in blood,’ Bethan cried. ‘Help it.’

‘It looked like his fur got caught on the fence wires. I can’t. I can’t,’ her father said.

Bethan rested her hand on it again and sniffled.

The kitten was so small he fit in the palm of her father’s hand. He placed his finger, feeling for the cat’s pulse.

She closed her eyes. ‘Please wake up.’

‘Pumpkin,’ her father said, drawing his hand back.

‘No,’ Bethan cried, pulling on his arm. ‘Please, little kitten, wake up.’

Dana scoffed and walked away, bored.

‘Please wake up, and you can have a nice home and all the food you want.’ Her hand rested on the kitten’s back.

‘Bethan, let it go,’ he pleaded.

Her entire face was wet with tears.

‘He was scratching on the door minutes ago,’ she said.

She whispered to it again. She held her hand on the cat’s chest. She looked closer, and she could have sworn she saw it move up and down.

‘Dad,’ she gasped.

Her father adjusted his glasses and inspected them as well. He saw the chest move up and down. The smell of metallic blood lingered in the air.

She gasped and jumped up. ‘I told you. I told you.’

The kitten released a soft meow and opened his wide, yellow eyes.

‘I could have sworn he was gone,’ her father said, inspecting the cat.

‘His name is Poe,’ Bethan told him. ‘I’m keeping him.’

‘Wash your hands of the blood, and I will take him to the vet. To make sure he is okay.’

Bethan went into the house and scurried upstairs.

She washed all the blood from her hands, and she tiptoed down the stairs and peered around the corner to see her father whispering in her mother’s ear.

Her mother looked shocked, and she clutched a hand to her chest.