That Parrot Made My Fiancée a Monster

Jasmine Sanchez and I stood in the center of the recently emptied living room, the floor still marked with the old landlord's shoeprints. The third floor of this nineties-era building was the bargain honeymoon apartment we had searched for over six months. The down payment wiped out five years of our savings, and we even borrowed money from our parents. The old landlord, an elderly man, had left in a hurry, abandoning the dark green parrot in its cage on the balcony. The parrot was very quiet; it only said "Hello" and "Goodbye." Jasmine said it was like an emotionless tape recorder, yet every morning she fed it millet. On the third afternoon after we moved in, the sky suddenly darkened, and a heavy thunderstorm broke out. Lightning flashed incessantly outside the window, bathing the room in a harsh pale light. Thunder roared, causing the windowpanes to vibrate with a low buzzing hum. We huddled on the sofa watching a comedy film; Jasmine leaned on my shoulder, clutching a half-empty bag of potato chips. Just as our laughter faded, a dull thumping sounded from the balcony. I thought the wind had knocked over the flowerpot. As I stood and walked over, I froze just as I reached the balcony door. The parrot was not in its cage; it was pressing against the bathroom wall, banging its head repeatedly against the tiles. Jasmine came over, grabbing my arm, her voice trembling. "What's wrong with it? Was it frightened by the thunder?" I shook my head, and just as I reached out to catch the parrot, it suddenly stopped, tilted its head, and stared intently at us with its dark eyes. The next moment, a hoarse, agonized female voice spilled from its beak, laden with sobs. "Help me, it hurts so much!" Jasmine and I both froze, the only sound remaining was the thunder outside the window. That was not a sound a parrot should make; it had never said those words before. In the moment I was stunned, the room suddenly went dark—both the lights and the television flickered off. The power had gone out. In the darkness, the woman's voice repeated over and over: "Help me, it hurts so much!" I quickly pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight. The beam swept across the room; the parrot lay motionless on the floor, its eyes wide open. A faint, putrid smell wafted through the air, like the stench of a dead rat. Jasmine clutched my hand tightly, her nails almost digging into my skin. She breathed heavily, her voice trembling with tears: "Should we... should we stay somewhere else for the night? This house is too frightening." I nodded, a wave of fear rising inside me, cold sweat soaking my back. I pulled Jasmine toward the door. Passing the bathroom, I glanced again at the parrot lying on the floor; its eyes were still open, as if staring at the wall behind me. There must be something horrible hidden within this house.