The sound of the box fan wasn’t enough to drown out the sounds of the city, and the paper-thin walls of my apartment did nothing to help. A motorcycle roared as it raced down the street, and the faint call of sirens whistled in the air. I could hear the television someone had left on in the apartment above mine and doors slamming as people stumbled home after a night out.
I looked at the clock. The baby in 2C would be awake soon, calling for her mother to feed her. At five minutes ‘til two, I smiled as her cries echoed through the building. I listened until her cries soften and then disappeared, pretending the pillow I held in my arms was Strawberry—the baby pink teddy bear I’d had as a child but had left behind. I wiggled my foot, reassured by the feel of Cinder’s soft fur against my toes.
I hadn’t planned on getting a cat, but I’d found Cinder behind the coffee shop I worked at late one night as I’d been taking out the trash. I’d heard her pitiful mewling before I’d seen her. After searching around for a good ten minutes, I’d finally found the tiny black kitten behind the dumpster. It had taken one look into her electric yellow eyes for me to fall head over heels in love with her.
It wasn’t a leap for me to say she’d saved my life.
Cinder needed me, and I needed her. She looked to me for cuddles, pets, and love. I was the only one responsible for feeding her and cleaning her litter box. I brushed her fur and let her sleep in my lap while I read. I wiggled her toys when she wanted to play and gave her a part of my pillow whenever she gave me that cute look of hers. I didn’t even mind when she got under my feet when I came home because it felt so nice having her love and need me.
Lightly petting her with my foot, I tugged my blanket over my shoulder and stared at the patterns the light made on the wall as it filtered in through the blinds. Nighttime was the worst for me. During the day, I could keep my mind busy with work and customers. In the evening, I made dinner, took care of Cinder, and had a stack of books I’d bought from the nearby thrift store to distract myself with.
At night, I had nothing but my thoughts and memories.
I hadn’t seen Neil in over a year, but he still had the power to get to me. I could still hear his voice criticizing everything I said and did, thinking it was love. I could still feel the hairbrush landing on my backside with painful force for an honest mistake, thinking it was love. I could still remember how happy I’d felt when he’d told me to quit the job I’d hated to stay at home so he could take care of me, thinking it was love.
How wrong I’d been.
Rolling onto my back, I studied the tiny, little shadows the popcorn texture made on the ceiling.
It was hard, forgiving myself for seeing his abuse as love, for being the young, naive submissive that had fallen for the first handsome Dom to come my way. Some nights it was easier than others. Tonight was one of the hard ones.
Pushing up off the bed, I scooped my arms under Cinder’s body, lifted her from her comfortable spot, and tucked her against my chest. Lying back down, I started petting her, soothing her back to sleep so she wouldn’t leave me. She looked at me, stretched out her front legs as she yawned, and then tucked her head down with a purr.
The weight of her against my chest was calming. I focused on her instead of the insidious thoughts my brain wanted to bring up. I stroked her ear, playing with the flexible cartilage. When she flicked her ear away, I figured she’d had enough of that.
Closing my eyes, I gently stroked her back and visualized a forest. It was lush and green, slightly humid with the faint scent of flowers perfuming the air. Cinder was there as well, walking right beside me in her panther form as we made our way through the thick vegetation.
I was Mjölnir, a powerful warlock on a quest to avenge my fallen love with the help of my shapeshifting familiar, Cynara.