I woke up and put my feet on the floor. The ground felt wet, like one of my kitties had spit up on the floor. I turned on the light and saw that it was all over the floor and on the front of the dresser as well. And it was water, but it was writing, like graffiti. I remembered that graffiti was sometimes people writing actual words and realized that it was a curse someone had written.
I heard two people outside my door. I felt they were two ladies that shared my house with me (in real life, this is not true). I knew they were people who cared about me. I opened the door and they said, “No, don’t come out, don’t look. They hurt Molly (one of my kitties – black, very sweet and timid, she only trusts me and hides from everyone else), there’s nothing you can do. You don’t need to see this, it will just upset you.” I said, “Let me go to her, she needs me.” I pushed past them and ran to her. She was on the ground. Someone had pulled off one of her legs and burned her or something – part of her was still fur, but the other half was skin. She also was not a kitty anymore, she was a small dog. She was alive, and trying to crawl into the bedroom that she likes to sleep in. She was badly injured.
I ran to get a towel to wrap her up and my friends just stood there looking bewildered. I realized that they had no idea how to help her. I told them we were taking her to the doctor and they needed to the kitty carriers to put my other two kitties in. I felt that if we left them at the house while we were gone the people who hurt Molly would come back and hurt the other two, so we were all going.