Emily’s flashlight flickered slightly as she cautiously stepped further into the attic. The scratching grew louder, coming from behind a stack of old trunks and dusty furniture. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her racing heart. “Okay… it’s probably just a squirrel… or a raccoon again,” she whispered, though the uncertainty in her own voice betrayed her.
Carefully, she moved a chair closer to the trunks and peeked behind them. Her eyes widened as she saw the source: a small, scraggly kitten, trapped in a forgotten cardboard box. Its tiny claws scraped against the cardboard as it mewed pitifully. Relief washed over Emily, mixed with a wave of guilt. “Oh, you poor thing,” she murmured, kneeling down to gently scoop it up.
The kitten wriggled at first but soon calmed in her arms, nuzzling against her chest. Emily laughed softly, the tension in her body finally loosening. “All this time… all those nights… and it was just you,” she said, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all. She glanced around the attic, realizing the little creature must have snuck in and gotten trapped months ago.
Cradling the kitten, Emily climbed down from the loft, feeling a mix of exhaustion and relief. She set up a small blanket in the living room for her unexpected guest and fetched some food and water. For the first time in days, the house felt peaceful, and the scratching sound was gone. Emily sank into a chair, smiling despite her weary limbs. Somehow, the tiny feline had turned her nights of fear into a story of rescue.