Chapter 2: JODI

I turned around and went back inside, slamming my own door harder than necessary. The cat sat on the floor, watching me with curious, almost unnatural eyes. They weren’t normal cat eyes. They looked like a mix of deep purple and pink, glowing faintly in the dim light.

"Shit..." I rubbed the back of my head. "Uh... so... what the hell do cats even eat? I’ve got some bread, I guess..."

My apartment was a sad little box, a cramped 1+1 where the kitchen and living room bled into each other with no real boundary. The walls were a faded, yellowish beige, stained by years of cigarette smoke and dampness. A single flickering bulb hung from the ceiling, casting weak, depressing light over everything. The linoleum floor was old, cracked in places, and permanently sticky no matter how many times I mopped it.

The furniture was pathetic: a sagging second-hand couch with torn seams, a wobbly coffee table buried under empty cigarette packs, instant noodle cups, and charging cables. A small, ancient TV sat on a cheap plastic stand, its screen dusty and rarely used. The air always carried the same stale scent, cold rain, old smoke, cheap booze, and the faint rot of a life that had slowly collapsed in on itself.

I walked into the kitchen area and grabbed the half-eaten loaf of bread from the table. I tore off a small piece and crouched down, setting it on the floor in front of the cat.

She sniffed it once, then gave a loud, deeply offended meow.

"Yeah... I wouldn’t eat that either," I muttered with a tired, bitter chuckle. "You’re right."

I tossed the stale bread into the overflowing trash bin and opened the fridge. Its weak light revealed mostly emptiness, a few condiments, a half-empty bottle of whiskey, and the carton of milk. I poured some into a small pan and placed it on the floor.

The cat wasted no time and began drinking eagerly.

I checked the expiration date. Still good for ten more days. I’d bought it cheap from the discount shelf at the store, the section where they put everything that’s about to go bad. Story of my life.

"You’re ten days lucky," I said quietly, watching her.

While she drank, I gently rubbed under her chin. Her eyes slowly closed in quiet pleasure. For a moment, the apartment felt just a little less empty.

"You need a name, huh?" I exhaled, staring at the ceiling. A long silence passed. "Eh. Nothing comes to mind."

When she finished, the cat delicately licked her paws clean, then hopped onto the worn-out couch. She circled twice, curled into a tight black ball, and fell asleep like she belonged there.

I glanced out the rain-streaked window at the dark street below. The melancholic patter against the glass matched the heaviness in my chest perfectly.

Yeah... I needed sleep too.

As I walked past the couch, I paused and gently stroked her head.

"Goodnight, buddy."

❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬‪‪❤︎

A loud, violent bang jolted me awake.

I shot up from the bed, heart hammering. The cat was already on the floor, ears flat, staring at the door.

Thud. Thud. THUD.

I stumbled over and peeked through the peephole. Fuck. It was the dog owner from earlier, red-faced and furious, his big mutt growling beside him.

"What the fuck do you want?!" I shouted through the door. "Get the hell out of here!"

"Open the fucking door, boy!" he roared. "I’m gonna fuck the shit outta you!"

He started kicking the cheap wooden door. Each heavy blow made the frame crack and splinter. It wasn’t going to hold.

The cat stayed low, watching everything with those strange purple-pink eyes.

I rushed to the kitchen table, grabbed my phone with shaking hands, and dialed 911. Before I could hit call, the door finally gave way with a loud crack. The dog burst inside like a missile and sank its teeth deep into my calf.

"FUCK!" I screamed as pain exploded up my leg. The phone clattered to the floor.

The cat darted under the couch.

The owner stormed in, yanked the dog back by the collar, then came straight for me. His fists rained down hard and fast. I tried to protect my head, curling up and throwing weak punches back, but he was bigger, meaner, and full of rage.

"Knight in shining armor, huh, homeboy?!" he snarled between punches. "You tough shit now?!"

He beat me mercilessly, face, ribs, stomach. When he finally stopped, he delivered one last brutal kick straight to my face. Blood filled my mouth. My vision blurred.

He spat on me, flipped me off with a satisfied grin, then whistled for his dog and left like nothing happened.

I lay there on the floor, broken and bleeding.

Everything I’d tried to be... it was all worthless.

I had spent my whole life being the good guy. The reliable one. The one who never hurt anyone, who helped his sister even when it destroyed him, who kept his head down and tried to do the right thing. And for what?

Suddenly, the muffled moans from across the hall started up again. That asshole next door was fucking another girl, loud, shameless, and completely untouchable. The world rewarded monsters, and it trampled the meek.

A broken sob tore out of me. Then I started laughing, a wet, deranged sound that quickly dissolved back into ugly crying. Tears mixed with the blood on my face.

I hated this. I hated this. I hated this.

For this one time, I wanted to be ’that’ guy that everyone was scared of.

"Fuck... fuck them... fuck everyone!" I screamed hoarsely. "FUCK! GAH... FUCK! FUUUCK!"

My phone rang on the floor, vibrating against the carpet as blood slowly soaked into the fibers. I dragged myself toward it, every movement sending pain through my ribs, and picked it up with trembling hands.

Jodi. My sister. Of course.

"Hello?" I muttered, resting my forehead against the leg of the table.

"Yo, yo," she said over a wall of music. "Lil’ bro. You didn’t send my money today. What’s up?"

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Speaking hurt. My jaw hurt. My throat hurt. Even breathing felt like work. "Jodi, a guy came to my apartment."

"What?"

"A guy came to my apartment and beat the shit out of me."

I heard laughter on her end of the line. Not at me. Just people around her.

"What are you talking about?"

"I’m serious."

My voice cracked and I wiped at my face, not even sure whether it was blood or tears anymore.

"He had a dog. They found me. He beat me up."

"Jesus."

For a second, I thought she actually sounded concerned.

Then she sighed.

"So you can’t send it today?"

I stared at the carpet.

"W-what..."