He looked exhausted when I got to the fire truck.

Still in uniform, still smelling like smoke, holding this little cat wrapped in a wool blanket like it was the most fragile thing in the world.

Everyone thought it came from the apartment fire on 3rd. The one with the old wiring and the woman who always left her oven on.

But then my uncle leaned in close—too close—and said,
“Don’t mention the crawlspace. Not to anyone. Just say it was the kitchen.”

I didn’t get it at first. I thought he was just tired. Shaken.

But when I looked down at the cat, I noticed the collar.
It had a name tag: “Scout”
And on the back of it, in faded ink, was our address.

My old address.
From when I was a kid.
From before we moved.
From before the house was condemned.

No one was supposed to know what was under that floorboard.
And definitely not the cat.

The collar was just the first sign of something being terribly wrong.

I knew something had changed when my uncle’s hand trembled as he passed me the cat. “Promise me, okay? Promise you won’t say anything.”

He always had this weight in his voice when he was serious, and I didn’t argue. I didn’t understand then, but I knew better than to question him.

I cradled the tiny cat in my arms. Its fur was matted, and its eyes were wide, as if it had just escaped from a nightmare. But when I looked back at my uncle, he was already walking away.

“What’s going on, Uncle Ray?” I called out, but he didn’t turn around.

The fire trucks were parked all along the street, their flashing lights casting an eerie glow over everything. People milled about in the background, talking about the fire, the damage, but none of it seemed to matter. I had one question on my mind.

Where did the cat come from?

I walked back to my car, still holding the cat, my mind racing.

I don’t know why, but I drove toward the old house. The house that had been abandoned for years now, the house that everyone in town whispered about. Everyone had their theories about the place, but nobody talked about it seriously. The house had been condemned after the fire, the one that took my parents, and the one that left me and my uncle as the only survivors of that family.

But the house wasn’t gone. It was still there, standing in the middle of an overgrown lot, like an ancient ghost watching over everything.

I parked in front of it. The front yard was overgrown with weeds, but the house still looked the same, dark and looming.

I sat in my car for a while, the cat purring softly in my lap. Something felt wrong. The collar was too much of a coincidence. It couldn’t be.

But I had to know. I got out of the car and approached the front door.

It was locked, of course. But the back door, the one I used to sneak in and out of when I was younger, was still slightly ajar.

The old wood creaked beneath my feet as I pushed the door open. Inside, the house smelled like mildew, like it always had since the fire. But there was something else now, something more unsettling. The air felt colder, like someone had been there recently.

I made my way through the dark halls, through the rooms I remembered. Everything was covered in dust, and the windows were boarded up.

But when I got to the back room, I stopped dead in my tracks.

There it was. The old floorboard. The one I’d never been allowed to touch.

My uncle had told me never to ask questions about it. He said it was just a part of the house’s foundation. But I knew better. There was something hidden beneath that floorboard, something that he never wanted me to find.

And now, as I stood there, the cat in my arms, I knew the time had come to finally face whatever it was.

I knelt down and pried up the floorboard. My hands shook, but I didn’t stop. I had to know what was hidden there.

Beneath the board was a small, old box. It was covered in dirt, but when I picked it up, I felt the weight of it in my hands. It was heavier than I expected.

I opened it slowly, the creaking of the box echoing in the silent room.

Inside was something I never expected to see.

A photo. A faded photograph of my parents, standing in front of the house. The same house that had burned down. The photo looked old, like it had been taken decades ago.

But the strangest part? The woman in the photo wasn’t my mother.

It was a woman I didn’t recognize.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the picture, my heart racing. I felt dizzy, like the walls of the house were closing in on me. I couldn’t understand it. Why would my uncle have kept this? Why would he hide it from me?

But there was more in the box. A small letter, tucked under the photo.

I unfolded it with trembling fingers. The handwriting was familiar, but the words were like a riddle:

“Your parents made a deal. There’s a price to be paid for everything, even love. This is the last piece of the puzzle. Don’t let the cat in. Don’t let anyone near the house.”

I didn’t know what to make of it. My uncle had always been protective, but this? This was something else. What had he been keeping from me all these years?

Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me. Footsteps.

I spun around, my heart in my throat.

There, standing in the doorway, was my uncle. His face was pale, his eyes wide with fear.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” he said quietly. “I told you not to look.”

“Uncle Ray… what is this?” I asked, holding up the photo. “Who is she?”

He didn’t answer right away. He just looked at me, and for the first time in my life, I saw him completely vulnerable. Like everything he’d been hiding was unraveling in front of me.

“That woman…” he began, his voice shaking. “She was your mother’s twin sister. The one who… she didn’t make it out of the fire.”

I stared at him, confused. “But… why keep it a secret?”

“Because it wasn’t just the fire. Your mother… she made a deal to save her life. And your father… he was a part of it. They were involved with people who—”

“I don’t understand,” I interrupted, “what people? What deal?”

But my uncle just shook his head. “Some things you’re better off not knowing. You don’t want to get tangled up in that.”

But the cat. The cat had the same collar. And it came from the house. It had to be connected somehow.

“I need to know the truth,” I said, my voice shaking.

He looked at me with a mixture of guilt and regret. “I never wanted you to know. But you’ve found it. The cat was part of it. It was watching over the house, over us. It’s been waiting for years.”

I swallowed hard. “For what?”

“To keep the deal from being broken,” he replied softly. “The price was paid. And now, the only thing left is to make sure the past doesn’t come back to haunt us.”

I looked at the cat in my arms. It had been watching me this whole time, its eyes still wide, like it knew exactly what was going on.

I could feel the weight of the secret in the air, heavy and suffocating. I had never realized how much my uncle had sacrificed to protect me from the truth.

But now I knew. Now I understood why the house had never truly been abandoned. It was tied to something much deeper, something darker.

The deal had been made, and the cat had been the keeper of it all along.

I looked up at my uncle, and for the first time, I saw the years of pain and guilt etched into his face. The burden he’d carried for so long.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t want you to have to carry this. But you’re part of this story now, whether you like it or not.”

I nodded slowly. There was no going back now.

But at least I knew the truth. And sometimes, that’s all you need to break free from the past.

I placed the cat gently down on the floor, and for the first time, I felt like I was making my own choice. No more secrets. No more hiding.

The past could stay where it belonged.

And the future? That was mine to decide.