Devil's Due [h.s.]

Chapter 7

Moira was good, though. She listened to me ramble in the moments that my music wasn't on and by the time I finally arrived at my apartment, I did feel some semblance of normalcy making its way back through me. Enough that, as I mounted the stairs and dug around in my purse to find my key, my stomach had actually started rumbling.

"Shit," I groaned, taking a few steps inside and feeling a shiver run its way up my spine. I dropped my purse at my feet, walking over to inspect the thermostat. "Fuck. Not this again. Please, I can't afford to fix you right now."

A soft nuzzle at my feet pulled me out of my thoughts and I bent down, scratching my cat behind her ears while attempting to wrap my jacket tighter around myself with one hand. "Meatloaf, have you been freezing in this apartment since yesterday? You should have called me!" I teased, sitting down cross-legged on the floor and allowing her to climb into my lap. "I'll try to fix it but until then, and you're going to be upset with me on this one, you have to wear your sweater."

She let out a soft yelp as I stood up, taking a few small steps over to my bedroom in order to retrieve one of the numerous over-priced jackets that I'd bought her.

Meatloaf was a hairless cat. And yes, she was sometimes the root cause of why people didn't want to come over to my apartment, but she was the best I could get considering I was allergic to regular cat fur. If my hairless cat freaked out my company that much, they didn't deserve to be here in the first place.

"Christ," I grumbled, shoving her sweater under my arm and dragging the space heater out into the living room.

The heat had been breaking on and off in my apartment for the past couple of weeks. I'd been meaning to call and get it fixed, but I figured that considering we were on the tail end of the colder months, I could just make do until it got warmer out. Most of my time was spent at one of my friend's places anyhow.

"Okay, Meatloaf." I said, pressing the 'on' button on the heater and straightening up, bracing my hands on my hips. "C'mere. I gotta get this on you."

As per usual, the minute my cat caught sight of the god-awful sweater that I was planning on forcing her into, she went running for the hills – ducking herself behind the couch where she knew I couldn't reach her.

"Meatloaf," I scolded, chasing after her. I dropped to my knees and then to my stomach in front of the couch, glaring at her from where she was currently hidden. "This is because I care about you. I don't want you to freeze." My cat stared back at me, refusing to budge. "Listen, I'll even buy you your favourite wet food. The one that tastes like tuna and smells like ass–"

I caught hold of her at the last second, feeling bad as she hissed and scratched trying to evade my grip, but I eventually dragged her out and into my lap.

"I'm sorry," I cooed, tucking her arms and legs into the material. "This is because I love you. You'll understand that one day."

She had jumped off of me in a matter of seconds once I was finished, darting into my room to jump on the bed and lick away her metaphorical wounds. I rolled my eyes, wishing the little bastard knew just how much she ran my life.

"Okay," I breathed to myself as I headed to the kitchen, frowning upon opening the fridge. Empty. I closed it with a huff. Which did I want to do this month – eat, buy food for Meatloaf, pay my rent, or get gas?

With an inward groan, I realized that I was going to be taking the bus to work for a few weeks until I got paid and eating whatever I could scavenge from the fridge at the studio. This was what I had signed up for when buying a cat. She came first.

The studio's sales hadn't been great these past couple of months. During the winter, people seemed to forget that we really existed when we weren't a stop on a leisurely summer walk. Thankfully, the sales always did pick up, there were just those few shitty weeks where we were barely breaking even that I had to watch out for.