The Black Cat Says I'm the Bad One

I was born bad. That's what my family's "psychic" black cat decided about me.

Mom always said the cat could sense people's true nature. Good hearts drew it close. Evil ones made it hiss and snarl.

When Jasmine—the girl my parents took in—stole money from the house to tip male streamers on TikTok,

the black cat would just roll over lazily, exposing its belly to her.

But me? Even when I was just trying to feed it a small fish because it looked hungry,

it would arch its back and screech at me, its claws leaving deep, bleeding gashes across my hands.