/cats/ - Cats!

I have done something terrible.
I was raised on a small town, so now I had to move into a bigger city so I can go to college. I rent a room and, of course, pets are forbidden. It was there that I met Hector.
Hector was a small white cat, probably around 6 months old, that appeared out of nowhere in front of my room. He reminded me of my own white cat, who died two years ago, partly due to my fault. He was meowing very loudly, but he didn't ran off when he saw me; it was obvious he was lost. I tried to approach him, and as soon as I held him in my arms he started purring. That's when I noticed his name on his collar.
I fed him a bit of milk, and I thought that I could keep it for a night or two… but I didn't. Instead, I went out and hoped that, if I carried him around he would find his home again and leave. When it was obvious that his house wasn't anywhere near, I just left him on a street corner. A small cat who didn't do anything wrong, left once again.
However, Hector found his way back to my room, and during the next week he meowed outside of my room nonstop. But I didn't wanted to "take the risk" of letting him in and being kicked out of the room, even though I could have looked for another where I could keep a cat. So I ignored him. For a whole week.
After that week he dissipated, but not for long. Soon he roamed the streets nearby, meowing at everyone who passed by but me (he already knew I wouldn't help him). Most of the neighborhood was trying to find a way to get rid of him, but no one ever did a thing for Hector, even though we could all see how, day after day, his bones were more visible on the surface of his fur.
Today, Hector was ran over by a car. A friend who rents a room nearby found him alive still, and carried him to the outskirts of the city, because he didn't had the heart to finish him off. Hector is now dead inside of a shoe box, his organs outside of his body where he could see them during the long, painful minutes he lived after being ran over.
And it was all because I didn't had the courage to talk to anyone, to do anything, to look for his home, or a new home at least. All because I was so afraid of having to face the wrath of someone I don't know but in whose bank account I have to deposit every month so I don't get kicked out. In the end, my comfort was more important than a life. Hector's life.
I know I won't find sympathy here, but I don't really want someone to tell me it wasn't my fault. It was. I only needed some place where I could speak about what I did. I had to take it out of my chest. I was responsible, and I willingly condemned a lost cat to his death.
Do something for those lost cats out there. They don't deserve to die.