He was confused. The body he was in was not his, the other presence he felt there confirming that.
Unsure of what to do, he mentally stepped back, watching as the other presence, a kitten, went about her life. It soon became clear, however, that this kitten was still much too young to fend for herself, unable to yet secure any food on her own. He reached out to her, wishing he could do something…
… only to find himself suddenly the one in control, the kitten too weak to put up any sort of fight. Realizing he had a chance to help, he plotted and executed a plan to knock over a garbage can full of food. Satisfied, he took a moment to admire his work before surrendering control back to its rightful owner.
The kitten was confused for but a second before she happily settled down to the task of munching. He retreated once more to the back of her mind, pleased he'd been of assistance.
It happened entirely by chance one day. On a sojourn into an alley for food, they came across a discarded section of the newspaper. One of the featured articles was captioned "Meteorite Murders Man!" (apparently he knew how to read). Off to the side was a photo of said man. He took one look at it, at himself, and everything came rushing back.
Yomiel. Programmer. Interrogation. Park. Hostage. Fiancee... SISSEL!
Then and there he hatched a plan.
It was assumed that breaking into the morgue was impossible, and perhaps for a human it was. A kitten, however, had very little difficulty in doing so.
Yomiel left said kitten outside the room where his body was being kept, traveling inside to repossess it. There were waves of some sort emitting from it, but he ignored that, ignored everything that distracted him from his goal.
It felt strange to move his body now, distant. Like it wasn't his body so much as a puppet he was merely controlling. Sliding off the table it had been laid out on, he walked over to the door. Luckily for him the door could be unlocked from the inside.
The kitten was waiting on the other side, ready to greet him with a mewl. He took her into his arms, unable to abandon her. Not after she had gotten him all this way.
He shoved the fact he couldn't feel the cat fur under his fingers to the back of his mind.
After he grabbed the spare key to her house (Sissel kept it hidden under a hollow plastic frog), he walked inside, silently wondering how he was going to explain this.
… how did one explain this, anyway? He certainly didn't know how it was possible.
The kitten jumped out of his arms, curious as to this new place she found herself in. "Sissel?" he called out. No answer. Maybe she wasn't home.
He walked into the kitchen, and stopped in horror at what he saw. His fiancee, propped up against a lower cabinet, blood trailing from her wrists and forming into little pools on the floor. Blood also coated the knife that lay beside her, presumably from being used.
… guess there was no longer a need to explain anything.
When he could tear his eyes away from the sight before him, he spotted a note placed by the kitchen sink. He picked it up, grateful for a distraction, any distraction.
I'm coming to you, Yomiel.
The note slipped out of his hand and drifted to the ground. He bent over, hand hovering over the now blood-stained note, the last thing she'd left to him… before reaching out to pick up the knife. He wiped the blood on it off with a dish towel, feeling oddly distant, before holding the now clean knife up into the light.
He was supposed to be dead. Might as well finish the job.
Without hesitance, he plunged the knife into his chest.
And felt absolutely nothing from it.
Curious, he pulled it out of his chest, surprised to see the knife wasn't the least bit bloody. He ripped open his shirt and watched as the entrance wound the knife had left finished closing itself up. There wasn't so much as a scratch to show it had been there.
The knife clattered to the floor, missing the kitten rubbing up against his legs.
He was supposed to be dead. So why wasn't he?
He'd left her house in a daze, events still sinking in. He couldn't die, that was clear now. But with that option gone, what was he supposed to do?
His ears caught a soft padding sound creeping up behind him. Glancing back, he was greeted with the sight of the little black kitten.
"So you followed me, did you?" Not that he could blame the kitten for not wanting to stick around. He certainly hadn't.
Brazenly the little kitten marched up to him, once more rubbing up against his legs.
"You want to come with me?" He asked as he picked her up gently, his hands surprisingly steady. "I can't promise I'll be the greatest of owners."
The kitten nuzzled against his hand, as if reassuring that she didn't care.
Well, he reflected as he cradled her closer, the two of them had at least one thing in common: they both understood what it was to be utterly alone in the world.
At night in the darkness, finding he was unable to sleep (not couldn't sleep, mind you. More like he was physically unable to) thoughts of suicide once more drifted into his head.
Maybe he just hadn't tried hard enough. Maybe it would work if he did something else. Maybe, just maybe…
The kitten snoozing against him shifted slightly, giving him pause in his thoughts.
… but if he did that, who would take care of her?
He scratched the little kitten behind the ears. Even in her sleep, she moved closer to him.
She had no else. She needed him.
He repeated that to himself. He was needed.
"I've been thinking about what I should call you," he told the kitten as she lay curled up in his lap. Even if he couldn't feel the fur under his fingers, he found the motion itself soothing. A welcome little bit of normalcy.
He hesitated before continuing. "What do you think of… Sissel?" He paused in his petting, hand falling to his side. "It… it was the name of someone important to me. My fiancee," he explained.
The kitten purred and nuzzled closer against him. A smile somehow sneaked its way across his face. Sissel it was, then.
Red's always been her favorite color, she'd tell him whenever she would tease his taste in suits.
He tied the red bandana around Sissel's neck. It always was her favorite color…
The kitten rubbed up against his hand, meowing affectionately.