I named it Kevin.

There was no telling of the creature’s gender due to its lack of genitalia and physical trait of any kind, so Kevin was just a stab in the dark.

Sarah began to stir underneath the sheets, her soft hand moving up to rest on my clammy chest. I lowered my breathing to not wake her up, rubbing my fingers along the few strands of hair that poked from underneath the sheets. A sharp pain flooded the recesses of my temple and I groaned, pressing my thumb and index finger along the bridge of my nose.

Recalling such oddly distant memories had taken a toll on my stress, causing me to feel both nauseous and dizzy - a feeling very akin to reading too much in a moving car. Looking over the bed, I noticed little hairs scattered across the floorboards. They were dog hairs.

It took me awhile to remember Milo, the old golden retriever me and my wife had gotten on our wedding day. He was no longer a puppy when we rescued him from an animal shelter, and was now almost thirteen years of age – loyal, friendly, and who always slept at our bedside. Failing to see him anywhere in the room disappointed me as I felt a need for a familiar sense of security. I could only smell the hints of his musky, washed fur lingering in the air.

I turned and pulled the covers down slightly so my wife’s beautiful face peeks just over the edge. I became tempted to wake her up, tell her of my problems and have her comfort me with her soothing and intelligent voice.

But yet I didn't. I felt a sense of uneasiness and was afraid that waking her up from her peaceful slumber would trigger off something bad and unprecedented. So I leaned back onto the headboard and blocked out the pain, recalling the gradual and terrifying growth of Kevin.

-

For the next month and a half, I continued to change Kevin’s bowl of wet cotton and feed him copious amounts of my blood. What had started out to be an exciting supernatural encounter had become something of a chore - but it did not falter my enthusiasm in any way. It was still extremely satisfying to see a creature borne literally from one’s own blood and sweat grow day by day.

It had inspired me, led me to create multiple video diaries documenting Kevin’s development. I remember even having fantasies of compiling these videos together and splicing them into probably one of the most famous nature documentaries of all time.I would gain recognition for not only discovering, but also raising this creature, and hopefully even be allowed to go back to college to earn my veterinarian license. These delusional ideas were what blinded me to the impending consequences of my actions, made me oblivious to the dangers of becoming too fond of Kevin.

Back then, I even thought I had found Kevin’s place within the natural world, a creature similar to that of Haementaria ghiliani, a traditional Amazonian blood sucking leech that can grow up to a foot long. It was, at the time, seemingly obvious and how it had slipped my mind was unbeknownst to me.

Most importantly, I made very sure to measure Kevin’s size every day - even keeping two written logs, one by hand and another in my computer, detailing both the change in his height and width.

Besides being incredibly faster than the ordinary leech, there was, however nothing visibly odd to take note. At least until the tape stretched 30 centimeters.

You could tell something was different – even before he had reached a foot long. Kevin had become so active that I had to shroud his bowl in a wire mesh to prevent him from toppling over. His normal pinkish color had turned darker; his veins more riddled and pronounced, and even his scent had turned from its usual bleached emptiness to vinegar-like, almost as if reeking of human body odor.

However, I had already prepared myself mentally for such occurrences, and I handled each oncoming setback with composure and accordance.

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During the span in which Kevin had reached to lengths nearing a foot, I had even begun to set up rat traps along the alleyways across the street. It was, however a failed endeavor as alley cats had the tendency of hanging around these parts. All I found were half eaten rats caught on the sticky pallets and cats residing in the cages meant for the rodents.

It was frustrating, and I eventually had to settle for store bought mice instead. They were considerably smaller than street rodents, but I figured they were much cleaner and more unlikely to kill my bloodsucking friend.

Pet co. had not a single mouse on its premises and I had to drive downtown to other pet stores. It was tedious, but it gave me time to ponder over the events that would follow step 7. I mean I wasn't expecting anything less than Kevin feeding off the rodent’s blood, but why did it specifically require a live animal?

Wouldn't it have been a much simpler and more humane task to end the animal’s life and spill the blood for Kevin? As far as I knew, only blood was required in a leech’s diet. They do not have to kill to nurture hunting skills like a lion cub… all they do is latch onto fish and large mammals.

As I drove back, I caressed the surface of the box containing the white mice, feeling their lively banter behind the cardboard barrier. I've always been a semi – pacifist, and watching something getting hurt, much less being fed on would cause me to break into a mild anxiety. I guess that was why I've always preferred dogs and cats over reptiles – the mere thought of feeding snakes and lizards’ mice or insects ran chills down my spine.

It was, however, an unchanging law of Mother Nature, and I would just have to find a way to get used to it. Besides, Kevin had indefinitely become a part of my life, and like all animals that have been taken under my wing, I would see it through till the end.

The animals were silent as I entered the door, their faces solemn with an emotion only human language can express. I was puzzled at first, until the smell hit me.

Wasting no time, I set the box of mice onto the counter and made my way up the foreboding stairs. Each step I took intensified the stench that invaded my nostrils, distinguishing a mixture of vinegar, fresh blood… and the dusty smell of Lily’s feathers. My heart palpitated at the worry of Kevin and Lily’s safety, propelling my legs forward and into the door.

As I wrenched it open, I was greeted with a sight that overwhelmed my unwitting senses.

The linen cupboard door was open. Lily’s cage had toppled over from its stand; its bars and platform were coated with a dark river of blood and feathers. There was no trace of her, and as I took a step in, I noticed the blood had shot out across the room in vicious spits, as if she had been violently torn apart by a feral cat.

Using my shirt to avert my nose from the horrid smell, I peered into the gruesome cage, gagging as my eyes fell upon the recognizable striped claws, still holding on firmly to the door of the cage. Beside it was a large hole, the thin bars bent open in a way that made them protrude from the inside out like a flower in bloom.

I then noticed a faint trail of blood that inaugurated from the cage opening, slowly tracing it into the shadows of my mosaic curtains. It was there, propped on my floorboard and shrouded in black was where I saw the small figure.

There was nothing that obstructed my view of it before me, neither was there any hint of it trying to be concealed.

No, it just stood there.

It just watched me.

Kevin had consumed Lily, and his aftermath had been abominable.