The Games We Play

02 | Demonio Pulguiento

⠀⠀⠀⠀

c h a p t e r⠀0 2

⠀⠀⠀⠀

A HARSH KNOCKING on my front door ripped me from my deep sleep and I groaned quietly, trying to find the lamp on the bedside table with fumbling fingers. Talia shifted in the bed beside me and pulled the cover over her head.

Three more rapid knocks hit the wood before a furious voice sounded. "Rocio Lorena Hernández Peña!"

Upon hearing my full name, I sat straight up in the bed while a curse spilled from my lips. Mum was here and she was not happy.

"Open this damn puerta, cabra malcriada or that cosa peluda can starve to death!"

Still disoriented, I flung myself out of bed and threw on a long cardigan while hurrying out in the hallway. "I'm coming, Mum! Just a second!"

"Dios mio! No puedo creerlo, the things I do for this child. And what do I get in return? Frostbite and a bad back."

I rolled my eyes at her mutters, knowing full well she spoke louder on purpose to make sure I heard it. I rummaged around in my purse to find my keys, annoyed with both the front door needing a key to open from the inside and how I'd failed to wake up in time. Did I forget to set the alarm before I fell asleep?

"Could've used a bloody vacation myself but no, mamá tiene que hacerse cargo del gato," Mum continued to mutter to herself on the other side of the wood, making me giggle quietly.

Quickly unlocking the door with rushed fingers, I pulled it open with a smile. "Hola Mamá, come in."

She glared at me for a couple of seconds before stomping inside, not bothering to take her shoes off. The scent of her expensive perfume lingered, her black, curly hair flying past me in a perfect mess. "Why aren't you wearing any clothes? Look at this mess." She wildly gestured around my kitchen and shook her head. "Do you never clean? You're not living at a hotel, Rocio."

"Mum, please. It's eight in the morning," I pleaded, not near ready for one of her lectures.

She huffed, short frame struggling to sit down on one of the high barstools by the kitchen island. "No, it's not. It's six. And why haven't you bought a real kitchen table? I told you these chairs will ruin your back."

"Six?" I gaped. "What the hell am I even doing up? I thought I'd overslept! You were supposed to be here at eight, Mum!"

"Language, Rocio. Some coffee would be great."

I clenched my jaw and plastered on a smile, a smile that I dropped as soon as I turned my back on her. Don't get me wrong - I appreciated that she had agreed on watching Big for me, but she was two hours early. Two precious hours I could've spent sleeping, especially considering we went to bed way too late.

"So where is it?" she spat after a while of low mutters about how my choice of chairs would be the death of her.

I turned around to face her while leaning back against the counter with my arms crossed over my chest, the only sound the one of the coffee simmering. "Where's what?"

"That little demonio pulguiento I'm supposed to pick up."

"Big doesn't have fleas, Mum. Stop being so negative. It's not like I was the one forcing you into this," I sighed, putting a cup in front of her. "Would you like some breakfast?"

"I don't like cats, they're corrupt and evil. But I'm doing this because I love you and I think you deserve some time off to relax. And yes, breakfast sounds good."