I caper onto the sofa and turn on the midnight news. Brownie, my portly tabby, leaps onto my lap. I hear the door creak open. Clara barges in and stops in front of me, blocking the television. She smiles sweetly. "I'm Hungry." 

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I groan. Is this the only greeting she has? Despite being roommates for three months, I can't recall a single time she's given me a proper "Hello". She's never even tried to cook on her own - she relied on me. Today was the last straw. 

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"There's nothing here," I reply coldly. Her grin disappears. "What do you mean?" 

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"You heard me - Either starve or make your own food." 

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Clara stares. Her eye twitches. A pang of discomfort sweeps through me. She snarls "Fine," then grabs Brownie and trudges towards the kitchen. I sigh with relief. I continue to watch television. 

​

An hour passes - I turn off the news. The home is filled with darkness. 

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"Clara?" 

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Eerie silence. 

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I tread towards the light. "This isn't funny anymore!" I enter the kitchen. 

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A putrid smell engulfed the room. Light weekly illuminates in the microwave. Clara is nowhere. The timer on the microwave gives a shrill wail. I hesitate before pulling the handle. 

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I shriek. 

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Inside is Brownie - or what remains of him. His severed head sits on a plate. I look down and I'm met with the sight of his bloody, decapitated body lying right next to me. 

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A malicious voice whispers into my ear. 

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"Told you I was hungry."