User blog comment:Prince(ss) Platinum/Quickpasta Day/@comment-6007628-20130813213733

My grandparents had raised me since I was five. I had no recollection of my parents or how they died, so they filled the shoes rather well considering that I wasn't able to make comparisons to my original mother and father. Growing up in their house was rather pleasant, with one exception, the cat that never strayed far away from Grandmother. Her name was Sasha. She was old, ghostly white, and blind in both eyes. I could never explain why but she always made my skin crawl in a way nothing else could. Often times I would wake up in the middle of the night to find her sitting near the doorway, staring at me. Sasha had always stayed close to Grandmother's side. At times she would even get in the way of Grandfather snuggling with her on the coulch. He would simply put her on the floor and say "Move along now, Sasha" and Sasha would always stare at him with those pale, blind eyes.

One day, Grandfather was working in the Garage on his old Chevy that was always breaking down. I was sitting in the living room with Grandmother when we heard a loud crash. I rushed into the garage, worried that Grandfather had hurt himself. He was on the floor, holding his head with his hands. He told us that an oil can on one of the shelves had fallen on his head. He was bleeding rather badly and had to be taken to the hospital. I looked up at the shelf and saw Sasha laying there. Once again, she was staring at Grandfater. She was looking at him in a strange way. Almost as if she had known what would happen. Almost as if she had planned it.