This one has a bit of gore-ish stuff. This contains murder and a bunch of shit like that. I honestly recommend you not read this.

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It started when I went to one of my dad's friend's house. 

He had a pet cat. I forgot their name and their gender.

In fact, I don't remember much of anything from that night.

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I remember one thing.

I killed his cat.

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It was late at night, a little past my bedtime.

I was incredibly bored. My dad's friend, let's call him "Robert", his son was already asleep.

I had nothing to do.

I mean, he had a cat. She was old. She refused to play with me.

I was frustrated.

I decided I'd try playing with the cat one more time, just to see if it was chill yet.

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She wasn't.

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In fact, she scratched my face. It hurt. Bad.

At first, it started with a little swat to her abdomen. 

It was light, but it was a grave mistake.

The cat fought back, scratching, biting, and doing anything it could do to get away from me.

That's when I decided it had gone too far, so it had to end.

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I didn't mean to kill her.

I had seen on TV how people would choke others to get them knocked out.

I thought it would be a good idea to try it on the kitty.

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It didn't end well.

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I held her throat for far too long. I didn't let go when she scratched.

I didn't let go when she bit.

I didn't let go when she went limp.

I didn't let go until my father came out and saw the limp cat at my feet as I stared him down on the stairway.

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I remember being proud of myself.

Like I had done a good deed.

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I don't remember what we did for the owner. 

All I remember is falling asleep during a lengthy lecture from my father, and being gently placed on the bed.

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Voices interrupted my slumber.

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Louder.

Louder still.

They wouldn't stop.

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I heard something crash, and then the voices stopped.

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I don't remember if my dad threw the chair on purpose, or if he had too much pent up anger.

Either way, the chair hit a vase.

Inside that vase was my great-grandmother's ashes.

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I ruined two loved things that night.

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I hate thinking back on that night. The morning was pleasant though. 

My dad made breakfast, and acted like nothing happened.

That's what he always did when something bad happened.

That's what he does now.

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We haven't talked to his friend since then, and it's fine by me.

I never want to see that man ever again.