They always say cats hide pain. Like it's noble. Like it's brave.

It's not.

It's instinct. And pride. And the hope that if you just curl tight enough, the world might not notice you're breaking.

It's the only thing I've ever been good at.

—

I couldn't keep my head up. It sagged against the cold steel of the table. The light above me buzzed faintly, flickering like it couldn't make up its mind. I hated it. I hated the smell. I hated the sound of voices trying too hard to appear calm. I hated the sharp cold press of the thermometer and the plastic crinkle of gloves.

But most of all, I hated that I couldn't hide it anymore.

The soft one held my paw. Called me brave. Her face was all red and wet and shaking. The tall one kept pacing. He pretended he wasn't scared. He always does that.

They were talking about my thyroid. About how it had gone rogue. About surgery. Anaesthetic. Risk. Monitoring. Cost.

No one asked me.

—

I felt the jab. It didn't hurt. Not really. It was the kind of needle you only feel for a second before it makes everything else feel far away.

The world slowed.

Sound stretched. Colours dulled. My heart thumped somewhere deep, steady and thick like a drum underwater.

This is it, I thought.

This is the last one.

—

I didn't panic. Cats don't do that. Not really. We leave that to you lot.

I just watched. Let the lights smear into long white lines. Let the voices blur. I thought about the jumper on the armchair at home, still warm. I thought about my bowl. I thought about the dogs. Idiots, all of them. But mine.

And I thought... if this is the end, then maybe I should take stock.

Nine lives, wasn't it?

Let's see how I spent them.

—

And just like that, the first one came rushing back.

The stink of bin fires. The sting of rain. The crunch of bones beneath soft grass.

No name. No home. No rules. Just claws and teeth. Always something chasing and something running, and never knowing which one you were.

The first time I died, I didn't understand it.

But when I came back, I did.

I understood too well.

—

So go on, then.

If I'm going out, I might as well remember how I got here.

Let's start from the beginning.

———