It was for all of these reasons that her eyes burned with unshed tears as soon as she was outside. She knew that he was naturally a very curious animal, and had often tried to slip outside before. He wanted to sniff all the scents, nibble at the grass, chase mice and other vermin in the darkness that he could see in. He was lean and muscular, and very fast and agile. She'd witnessed him leap from the floor to the top of her refrigerator casually on many different occasions. She wondered if he could be up a tree somewhere; she knew it was cliché, but most clichés were grounded in truth.
"Rocky," she hissed harshly into the night, straining to hear rustling noises of grass that might herald his movements. His noiseless, tiny padded paws wouldn't make a sound out here. "Rock! C'mon, kitty."
She stood in place, her ears pricked for any sound. She wasn't sure how long she stood like that, but after an extended silence, she tried again.
"Rocky," she called a little louder. "Rock-kitty. Come here!" She tried all of the nicknames she had for him that he responded to, her voice higher in pitch and tone because he liked her voice that way, and stood still, listening hard again. She moved around the sidewalk that led to side of the building, calling out softly for him as she went.
She had just rounded the corner of the building when she heard a tiny, piteous little mewl.
"Rocky?" she called, and heard the sound again. She rushed toward it, blind in the darkness, calling his name and listening for his cries. Between the way the cries sounded and the fact that he hadn't run to her, Drew felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She pulled her cell phone out to activate the flashlight application to see better in the darkness.
"Rocky," she called softly again, and swung the flashlight to her left when she heard another small, pained noise. She saw his long, lithe body stretched out in the grass about five or six feet away and hurried over, throwing herself on her knees as she examined him, feeling relief, confusion, and horror at the same time.
One of his front legs was bent at an odd angle, and there was matted blood in his soft gray fur. She stroked a hand along his body gently, fighting back tears at the way he weakly winced under her hand. Had he broken his leg somehow? Had someone done this to him? She was utterly confused and it made her heart sick to see her beloved pet in so much pain.
"It's okay, baby," she said softly. "I got you now. You're okay." She set her phone down and prepared to lean forward to scoop him up when she heard a low chuckle in the darkness. She froze. She knew it wasn't Heath. Her body tensed as she whirled her head in the direction of the noise. She saw a dark figure approaching her slowly, but she couldn't make out his face.
"Hi, Drew," a low voice said. Her breath and pulse picked up speed as she recognized it. Carter.
"What the hell do you want?" she demanded harshly. "Did you hurt my cat?"
"Aw, I just broke his little leg, is all," Carter said coolly. "Maybe some other things. Just wanted to leave you and your boyfriend a little message. But then I decided that wasn't enough. So here I am. You look good."
"You cruel, disgusting piece of shit!" Drew hissed angrily. She rose to her feet, feeling adrenaline sweeping through her. That this man had admitted to hurting her pet for the sport of it infuriated her, pushing any fear she previously felt to the back of her mind. She wished briefly she had a gun, then realized it was a good thing she didn't. She was so angry right now she believed she would have shot him out of that anger.
Carter took advantage of her hesitation, and before she knew quite what was happening, he reached out and grabbed her, slamming her face-first into the brick wall of the side of the apartment building before forcing her face to the side, tilting her jaw out toward him and covering her mouth with a hand. He gripped her face hard and pressed his palm painfully against her lips while her neck throbbed from the odd angle and her forehead scraped along the sharp brick. She felt the insides of her cheeks thrusting painfully around her teeth as her jaw tightened and tensed. She felt panic rising, horrible, dismantling panic that threatened to freeze her up and make her go limp.
"See, Heath fucked up when he fired me," Carter was whispering into her ear. "He fucked up in a huge way. But then—he fucked me over again. I don't know how he does the things he does, but that motherfucker got me banned from MMA—forever. Do you know what means, Drew? Do you? That means I can never manage any fighters because I can't enter them into tournaments. Who wants to be managed by someone who can't even do anything for their career?"
He chuckled again, the sound horrible in her ears, and she realized she could smell a strong, pungent, sharp odor of alcohol around him. He had pressed her to the wall below a wall sconce, and in the dim light, she could see as she looked over her shoulder when he leaned into her face that his pupils were dilated almost to the size of his entire iris, and that his eyes were bloodshot, hazy, and insane. She assumed he was both drunk and high on something, all at the same time.