lethal | hs

/13/

~~*~~
Molly Pierce

The room I'm inside of is unfamiliar.

It's a small living room space with two couches, one of which I'm occupying. Everything seems to be well-organized and clean, and the design of it all surprises me. I spot a boxed television adjacent to the couch I'm sitting up from, an ottoman with an unopened beer can sitting on it, a hallway on the far end, and a kitchen behind me.

The open room itself doesn't have a lot of decoration apart from a bookshelf with a fair amount of books and a large jewelry box sitting on the inside of one of the shelves, but other than that it is basically plain.

The more I contemplate where I am, the more I realize it's Hot Shot's house. I remember telling him that he couldn't take me straight to my house, because I'd get killed for coming back drunk, so he had to settle for taking me here... to his.

I feel fine now. I didn't have enough shots to make me feel fully intoxicated, but it was definitely enough to make me slightly drowsy. The tequila was horrible, but after hearing everything regarding their whole car stealing situation, I felt stressed enough to power through the taste.

I feel awkward walking around his house. The silence is completely still, and judging the place based off of its quietness, I don't think he's here.

Just to make sure, I pace down the hallway. I keep my steps light as I walk. There are two doors going down the hallway, one on the left and one on the right. I place my hand on the knob of the left door, rattling it a few times before I realize it's locked.

I repeat the process with the second door, that one being noticeably locked as well. Hot Shot must've locked them just in case I decided to go snooping around.

"He locked the doors," I mutter in realization. "Dick."

I backtrack to the front door over in the living room, and I peek through the glass of the window to see that his car isn't in the driveway. It's late now, so I have no idea how long he's been gone for, but I really should be getting home. I don't know how to get back across the railroad tracks from his house, and I'm definitely not walking.

My only option is to wait for him to get back.

Just as I flip back around, I notice a small animal scampering its way across the floor from the kitchen. All I manage to catch a glimpse of is its fire-like fur, and before I know it, the animal is tucking itself on the opposite end of the couch to hide.

Out of curiosity, I trail over, tracing the dashing steps on the small animal.

"There's no way..." I mutter to myself in disbelief. The thought of someone like him having a pet, let alone the one I think it is, amazes me.

To confirm my suspicion, I look over and notice a food and water bowl located beside one of the counters in the kitchen. My eyes widen once I notice them.

I turn back around, seeing that at the end of the couch, the animal has finally revealed itself. My eyes completely lower to see a small kitten approaching my feet. Just like what I saw, the kitten has orange fur and paws that are significantly larger for his tiny body.

This motherfucker has a cat.

"Oh, my God," I drop myself down to the ground, smiling in disbelief. "He has a cat. No way."