Nyx

Her name was Nyx and she looked like a villain's pet. You know, sleek black fur, glowing yellow eyes, the whole vibe. She was standoffish to everyone else. My mom said she gave her the creeps. But she picked me. Always curled up on my hoodie, followed me into the bathroom like a little furry shadow. I used to call her my familiar. She’d sit on the windowsill like she was waiting for the full moon. At night, she’d sleep by my feet or sometimes on my chest like a weighted blanket of judgment. We both liked the dark. We both hated loud people. She’d hiss at visitors if they were too cheerful. I respected that. I knew she was getting older, but I kept pretending she wasn’t. She started sleeping more. Started missing the litter box. I cleaned up without saying anything. Just didn’t want her to feel bad. When she stopped eating, I knew. I wrapped her in my favourite hoodie and buried her under the lilac bush. Now my room feels too quiet. I light candles sometimes just to feel like she’s still there. Miss you, Nyx. You were darkness, but you made my life brighter.