Page 14 of Bite
Why the hell did I let myself get involved in this?
“No,” I snap, suddenly on the defensive. “I’ll just stick with the blood.”
“Of course,” she replies with a bright smile. “If you change your mind, you can update your preferences at any time to suit your interests.”
I nod stiffly as she clicks the tablet off, setting it down on her desk.
“This initial follow-up is standard, but your future follow-ups will be monthly,” Francesca provides. “Should you ever wish to schedule additional follow-ups, simply call the office. You’ll continue receiving engagement requests through the app, and after five successful engagements, you’ll qualify for a fee increase.”
“Great,” I reply, feigning enthusiasm.
This whole thing was a mistake.
I only need to endure two more bites to get the money I need, and then I fully plan on deleting that damn app.
Fran rises to her feet, smoothing the front of her dress. “Thank you for coming in, and please, don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything.”
I stand, mumbling a quick thanks, and she escorts me to the door with her usual warmth– like we’re old friends instead of players in an underground blood economy.
My mind churns the whole drive home, and when I’m dropped off in front of my apartment building, I feel hollow inside. The air is frigid, but I barely register the cold as the car drives away. I just numbly stare up at the crumbling brick, wishing I could go back in time to the girl I was before I set myself on a crash course to my own demise.
A tiny sound cuts through the fog in my brain, pulling my attention in the direction of the alley. For a second, I think I imagined it, but then I hold my breath to listen and hear it again.
It’s soft, barely a squeak. A desperate mewl.
Following the sound around the side of the building, I step past the peeling brick and broken glass, finding nothing but the overflowing dumpsters. The smell hits first, but when I pause to listen, I hear it again– closer than before.
Stepping closer to the nearest dumpster, I crouch to peer behind the bin, scanning for any flicker of movement. My breath catches on a gasp when I see a set of gold eyes peering back at me.
It’s a kitten– tiny and trembling, huddled against the brick as if it’ll offer some warmth.
My heart twists.
“Hey,” I whisper, extending a hand toward the creature. “C’mere, little buddy.”
The kitten doesn’t budge. I edge closer anyway, stretching until my fingers brush against its coarse, matted fur. It’s lighter than I expect when I scoop it up– just skin and bones wrapped in black fluff, a shivering weight that fits in my palm. The weak sound it makes is more of a croak than a meow, but it doesn’t fight me when I tuck it under my coat and push to my feet.
I carry it inside and up the three flights of stairs to my apartment, fumbling to open the locks one-handed before shutting the door firmly behind us. My place is cold, dim, nothing special… but compared to the alley, it’s sanctuary.
I set the kitten down on the kitchen floor and pour some coffee creamer into a chipped mug. The little thing dives right in, lapping noisily, tail twitching with renewed energy. While it drinks, I rummage through the few canned goods I’ve got left in my cupboard until I find a forgotten can of tuna. I crack it open, dump it on a plate, then stand back and watch as the kitten attacks the food like it hasn’t eaten in days.
I lean against the counter, arms folded, watching. I’ve been making reckless choices lately, going down a dangerous path and getting in too deep– but looking at this filthy, half-starved creature, I feel something thaw in my chest.
My apartment may be shitty, but at least it’s shelter. It may be chilly in here, but it’s warmer than outside. And I may not have much to offer, but what I do have, I can share.
I can give this helpless little thing safety; a fighting chance for survival.
And maybe that means I’m not as far gone as I thought.
I’m still human. Still me.
Or at least trying to be.
Chapter
Five
Since running away from my last foster home at sixteen, I’ve gotten used to living alone. There’s no one to depend on, no one to answer to, no one breathing down my neck… just me, myself, and I.
