《黑貓》第三集：血色之夜 | The Black Cat – Episode 3: A Night of Blood

有些罪惡只需要一瞬間便能發生，但一個人墮落的過程，往往早已開始。酒精、憤怒與猜疑逐漸吞噬主角的理智，而普魯托曾經給予他的信任，也終於在這個血色之夜被徹底摧毀。

深夜時分，我再次帶著滿身酒氣回到家中。那時的我，早已不是曾經那個溫柔善良、把動物視為朋友的人。酒精像一層厚重的霧籠罩著我的思緒，所有理智都變得模糊不清，而每一個細小的刺激，都足以點燃我心中的怒火。推開家門後，屋內一片寂靜，只有窗外的雨聲不斷敲打著玻璃。我很快便看見了普魯托。牠伏在房間的一角，遠遠地看著我。從前，只要我踏進家門，牠便會立刻跑過來迎接；如今，牠卻在看見我的瞬間站起身，慢慢往陰影裡退去。我盯著牠，心中那股被拒絕的感覺再次升起。我明明知道牠是在害怕，卻偏偏不願承認。我把牠的退縮理解成挑釁，把牠的恐懼理解成背叛。我低聲叫著牠的名字，試圖像從前一樣把牠抱回懷中，可是普魯托卻轉身想逃。我追上去，一把將牠抓住。牠在我的手臂間拼命掙扎，爪子抓住我的衣服，身體因恐懼而不停顫抖。我越是用力，牠便越是害怕。就在拉扯之間，普魯托突然咬了我一下。那只是一個短暫而輕微的咬痕，卻在酒精與怒火交織之下，瞬間變成我心中不可饒恕的罪證。我低頭看著手上的傷口，又看向那隻驚恐的黑貓。那一刻，我腦海裡只剩下一個念頭：牠竟然敢傷害我。憤怒迅速吞噬了最後一點理智。我猛然將普魯托摔落地面，牠驚慌地向後退去，而我卻一步步逼近。手伸進外套口袋時，我摸到了那把隨身攜帶的小刀。我的手停了一瞬間。就在那短短的一瞬間，過去的記憶曾經試圖阻止我。我想起第一次在收容所見到普魯托的情景，想起牠用頭輕輕蹭著我的手，也想起那些我們一起度過的寧靜日子。那個曾經愛牠的男人，似乎仍在我的心底苦苦掙扎。然而，酒精讓那最後的聲音變得如此微弱，而憤怒則徹底壓過了一切。我做出了那個不可挽回的選擇。當瘋狂終於退去時，房間重新陷入死寂。普魯托倒在地上，身體不停顫抖，牠的一隻眼睛已經失去，黑色的毛髮被鮮血染紅。我呆呆地看著眼前的一切，手中的刀也無力地掉落在地上。直到那一刻，我才真正看見自己究竟做了什麼。我曾經愛護牠，把牠當成最親密的伴侶，如今卻親手將牠變成一隻殘缺而恐懼的動物。我跪在地上，第一次感受到真正的悔恨。普魯托抬起僅存的一隻眼睛望著我，那目光沒有憤怒，也沒有報復，只有深深的恐懼。那一刻，我反而更加無法承受。我想伸手靠近牠，卻不敢再碰牠。我想把時間倒轉，回到我們第一次相遇的那一天，可惜犯下的事情永遠不會因為後悔而消失。天亮前，瑪麗被屋內的聲響驚醒。當她走進房間，看見受傷的普魯托與地上的血跡時，她整個人僵在門口。她沒有大喊，也沒有質問我，只是沉默地看著我。那份沉默比任何責罵都更加刺痛。我不敢抬頭，只能再次拿起桌上的酒瓶。我告訴自己，只要再喝下去，就能忘記眼前的一切。第一杯、第二杯、第三杯……酒精再次慢慢遮住我的記憶，也遮住了我剛剛升起的良知。清晨的灰白光線從窗外照進房間，普魯托仍蜷縮在角落，痛苦而虛弱地活著。我看著牠，內心最後一次感到刺痛。可是，我沒有選擇面對自己的罪。我選擇了酒。那一天，我終於明白，真正可怕的並不是我犯下了一次殘忍的罪，而是我已經學會如何用酒精、謊言與黑暗，把自己的良知埋葬。普魯托失去了一隻眼睛，而我卻失去了看清自己靈魂的最後一點能力。更可怕的是，我並不知道，這一夜流下的血，才只是悲劇真正開始的第一滴血。

English Version

That night, I returned home long after midnight, carrying the bitter smell of alcohol with me. By then, I had become almost unrecognizable to the man I once was. The kindness that had once defined my character had been buried beneath drink, resentment, and an anger that seemed to awaken whenever darkness fell. Rain tapped against the windows as I stumbled through the front door. The house was silent, almost unnaturally so. Then I saw Pluto. He was sitting at the edge of the room, watching me from a distance. Once, he would have rushed toward me whenever I came home. Now, the moment our eyes met, he rose and slowly retreated into the shadows. I stared at him, and an ugly feeling began to rise inside me. I knew he was afraid. Somewhere within me, I knew exactly why. But I refused to accept the truth. Instead, I convinced myself that his fear was an insult, that his distance was deliberate, and that his refusal to approach me was a form of betrayal. I called his name softly, hoping that the old bond between us might return. But Pluto only moved farther away. I followed him and seized him before he could hide. He struggled desperately in my arms, his claws catching against my coat as he tried to escape. The harder I held him, the more terrified he became. Then, in the middle of the struggle, his teeth caught my hand. It was only a small bite, barely more than a warning born from fear. But my drunken mind transformed that tiny wound into an unforgivable offense. I looked at the mark on my hand and then at Pluto. The thought came almost immediately: he had dared to hurt me. Rage surged through me. I threw him to the floor, and he scrambled backward, trying to escape. I followed. My hand slipped into my coat pocket and closed around the small knife I carried. For one brief moment, I stopped. Memories rose before me—the day I first found Pluto at the shelter, the way he had gently pressed his head against my hand, the countless quiet evenings we had shared. Somewhere inside me, the man who had once loved him was still begging me to stop. But his voice was weak. The alcohol was stronger. The anger was stronger. And I surrendered to it. When the madness finally faded, silence returned to the room. Pluto lay trembling on the floor. One of his eyes was gone, and blood stained his black fur. I stood over him in disbelief, as though someone else had committed the terrible act before me. Then the truth reached me. I had done this. I had taken an innocent creature that trusted me completely and turned his world into a place of terror. I dropped the knife and fell to my knees. For the first time in months, genuine remorse broke through the darkness inside my mind. Pluto looked up at me with his remaining eye. There was no hatred in his gaze. No anger. Only fear. That frightened me more than hatred ever could. I wanted to reach for him, but I could not bring myself to touch him again. I wanted to return to the day we first met and choose another path. But regret cannot undo what has already been done. Before dawn, Mary woke to the sounds coming from the room. When she entered and saw Pluto injured on the floor, she stopped without saying a word. Her eyes moved from the wounded cat to me. She did not scream. She did not accuse me. Her silence was unbearable. I lowered my head and reached for the bottle on the table. I drank because I could not face what I had done. One glass became another, and another. Slowly, the alcohol returned like a familiar darkness, covering the memory, the guilt, and the fragile conscience that had briefly awakened inside me. By morning, pale light entered through the windows. Pluto remained curled in the corner, wounded and frightened, still alive but no longer the creature who once followed me everywhere. I looked at him and felt the sharp pain of remorse one final time. Then I chose the bottle again. That was the moment I realized something far more frightening than the violence itself: I was learning how to silence my conscience. I had discovered that guilt could be buried beneath alcohol, that shame could be drowned in darkness, and that even the most terrible memory could be pushed away if I drank enough. Pluto had lost an eye that night. But I had lost something far more important—the ability to see the darkness growing inside my own soul. And I did not yet understand that the blood spilled that night was only the beginning.