I stare up at the giant mansion that is to become our new house for the next year or so, absently wondering if it has a basement and, if so, if it's big enough for my purposes. Out of the corner of my eye I see my mother, already with a glass of wine in her hand, already drunk even though it's only one PM, flirting with the moving men even though dad is nearby. He doesn't hear her, though. He never does. Or, if he does, he doesn't care. All he cares about is that damnable flip phone he's always buried in-
I sigh.
This isn't the time to think about those things. Just keep thinking about the basement, Jack. Just keep your mind on the basement.
Well, when I think of it it like that, it sounds creepy.
My cat Wuya, named after my creepy babysitter when I was seven. Oh, how I used to worship her. I had gotten Wuya the tabby cat a year after she had stopped babysitting me, and in my childhood naivete, I had named it after her. By the time I grew enough to realize that she was a scummy, thieving bitch who stole thousands of dollars from my parents, it had been several years, and it didn't feel right changing the thing's name.
She curled around my feet in a figure-eight, purring. I stroked my fingers down the length of her back slowly before picking her up.
Wuya continued her purring, nuzzling her cold nose into my cheek. I let out a small giggle and kissed the top of her furry head.
"Good girl." I muttered. "Let's get you inside." I glanced towards the sun, which was getting low in the sky. I definitely didn't want to lose Wuya in the dark.
Trying my best to ignore my mother's drunken chatter and my father's drivel to his business associates, I stalk inside of the mansion.