Cat Life (Life Shots)

Rage's parents (oh no)

Date: July 29 20XX
Location: Cookie's flat, Toronto
Time: 7:43 PM (EST)
POV: Cookie

    There's nothing good a poor 16-year-old can do for summer except get a summertime job, which I have, actually. I work at the local Tim Hortons and, while it's minimum wage, I get less bored. I can't spend my whole summer at Rage's place and he gets busy, unlike me. Right now, I'm just lying on my bed and scrolling through YouTube Shorts (I don't want to get TikTok for obvious reasons), with absolutely nothing to do. It's dark outside, but I haven't eaten yet. I don't even want to. I'm just getting started on a random k-drama I found in my recommended section when the buzz from a text makes me drop my phone onto my face. Swearing quietly, I sit up and open the message. It's from Rage, and I think he's dying.
All he's written is:

sos

Date: July 29 20XX
Location: Timber Estate, Toronto
Time: 8:27 PM (EST)
POV: Cookie     

     Thirty minutes later, here I am in front of Rage's massive front door. I don't know why he called me here, but he did, so here I am, like a good dog. I tentatively ring the doorbell, not knowing what to expect. Almost immediately, the door flies open and it smacks me in the face. "Owwww..."
"Sorry 'bout that."
I look up to see Rage looking at me with wide eyes, like he's afraid of something in his house. I rub my nose and say, "What's the matter? Why'd you call me over?"
At this, he just looks even more spooked. Then I hear a harsh female voice from somewhere in the massive foyer.
"Tyler, get back here! We're not done talking to you!"
I swear to god, Rage jumps at the sound of her voice. I don't know who it is, but if I had to guess, I'd say his mom. And I guess I'm right because a male voice cuts through the woman's.
"Who's at the door?"
They both sound equally angry, and then I can see two people making their way to the door. Rage tries to act chill, like nothing's happened.
"I'm...talking to someone," he mutters, looking down. His parents stop at the door and eye me. I feel judged. 
"Who are you?" the black-haired woman says, narrowing her already-narrow eyes and looking down at me like I'm something pathetic. I take a step back, trying to get away from her gaze. 
"I-I'm Madilyn!" I say hurriedly. I don't think they'd appreciate it if I said 'Cookie'.
The man, who wears a black suit and has rumpled brown hair, steps forward. "If you have no business here, I suggest you go."
Rage looks very unlike his school persona. At school, he always has a kind of swagger around him, but now he just looks scared. Of his parents. 
Johannes Timber looks so menacing here, very different from how he looks on the newspapers and blogs and articles, all of which he and his successful companies are featured in at least twice a week. Now he just seems like a really strict, overbearing dad. 
Rage cuts in between me and his dad. "I invited her here!" he says angrily, facing him. He grabs my hand and drags me in. I don't protest. Anything to get me away from those two. But they walk after us.
"Who's she to you?!" his dad booms. "Is she your girlfriend?!"
Rage doesn't reply, his face grim. He just walks faster, his grip on my forearm tighter than those blood pressure cuffs at the doctor's.  His parents aren't giving up. They want answers to their question, and to finish lecturing Rage.
"Um," I whisper to him, "my hand hurts...?"
He lets go, not looking at me. "Run."
Before I can process what he said, he's already dashing off. I take one peek behind me. Yep, his parents are still pursuing us. Massaging my hand, I start running after him. I don't think his parents can run very well.

     We stop in Rage's room which is located in the North wing, far off from the entrance. It was actually really far, and I'm panting, as I slump against the dark marble wall. Rage is panting too, but not much. As I try to catch my breath, I look outside. The full-wall glass window takes up 3 corners of the room, and it's evident that Rage's room is built hanging over the hill. The skyline is very visible and there are no curtains. The angular minimalist pendant chandelier lights up as Rage flicks on the light switch. I've been here before, but not for a long time. Now I can look around and touch stuff. Rage peeks outside the door to scan the hallways for his parents, but I guess he doesn't see them, so he closes the door. 
I touch his bedspread, and surprisingly, it's soft as fuck. It's so soft that I can't resist sitting on it. "What is this shit made of?" I ask Rage in awe as he falls on the bed beside me. I can't help but rub my hand over it. 
"Japanese silk," he replies, looking up at the 20-feet-high ceiling. "Also, sorry 'bout my parents. They're crazy."
I look down at the marble floor. "It's fine, I guess. I can kinda see where they're coming from."
Rage exhales loudly and puts his elbow over his eyes to block the light. "What happened to your parents?" he asks, not meanly, just curious. 
"They're dead," I say bluntly. "Died when I was 14. Car accident."
"Oh. Sucks."
"Yeah." I'm not touchy or sensitive about the subject. They died, and if I was sad, it still wouldn't bring them back. "But I've been living on my own on government support since then."
"Mm."
I fidget with my nails. I painted them green a couple days ago. I usually don't buy nail polish because it's an extra expense, but I bought some a week back, when I was in a particularly good mood.

Date: July 29 20XX
Location: Timber Estate, Toronto
Time: 9:23 PM (EST)
POV: Rage

     We talk about random crap for a while. Just stuff about life and all that. Mom and Dad haven't found us yet, and they've probably given up looking anyways. I just lie down while Cat talks about whatever she wants, which is okay, because I don't really feel like saying much. I'm just kinda weary, not tired, but I don't want to do anything. Well, maybe there is one thing I could do without being forced to but it's never gonna happen.
Just as I think this, Cat scoots closer to me. Close is an understatement. She's so close that I can feel her goddamn skin. "What are you doing?" I mumble, just as she climbs on top of me.