MALEVOLENT

Chapter 9 The Pet

I awake to the sound of the elevator buzzer, as the plush, luxurious bed cradles me in its embrace. The scent of our skins among the crisp white sheets. My blurred gaze shifts towards the clock on Syrius's desk, as I'm startled to find the hands indicating 6 PM. The realization sends a surge of disorientation through me; how could I have slept through the entire day?

But before I can dwell on this unsettling discovery, my attention is drawn to a black gift box sitting beside the clock. Its presence is both intriguing as I notice a small card resting at the top, bearing the simple yet enigmatic inscription, "Angel." My pulse quickens with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity as I reach for the box, fingers trembling slightly. I winch in pain as the reminder of our encounter in this very bed brings goosebumps against my sensitive skin. I open the box with care as my mother is once again reunited with me.

16 years ago..

Her cold body lies collapsed on the table. The hardwood squishes her cheeks up as she resembles sleeping beauty. I walk to her holding my bookbag close. It's quiet, and normal to see her like this after a visit from Daddy Jake. Her special powder lined up in three sections neatly, mixed with the tips of raven colored hair. " Momma", I call no louder than a whisper. She doesn't answer as her breathing grows slower. The back of my palm brushes softly over her cheek, wiping the white powder from her nose. " Momma, I made the Debate team", I tap her shoulder, but my calls go unanswered. The soft glow of the kitchen light bathes her in a warm halo, casting gentle shadows across her features.With a soft sigh, I reach out, gently shaking her shoulder in an attempt to rouse her again from her slumber completely, but she stirs only slightly, incoherently mumbling as frothy foam spills from her mouth. Her body starts to shake , erupting in uncontrollable convulsions. My feet turn to lead as fear grips me tightly.

" Momma, Momma," I scream as I guide her gently to the floor , placing her head to the side on my lap. "Mom, can you hear me? It's going to be okay. Just hold on." I retrieve her cell from the table. Three numbers never held as much importance as they do now.

Tears threaten my eyes as I hug the box close. He didn't only fix the clasp, he also completely replaced the tarnished chain that the pedant sat on. Faint noise can be heard from beyond his closed bedroom door.

"Syrius," I call out, my voice emerging hoarse and raspy from the depths of sleep and tender memories. Yet, there is no response, only the echoing silence of the room. My arms rise above me, as the view of several hickeys are seen upon my flesh. Exiting the bed my limbs are heavy. I reach for his discarded dress shirt draped over the nearby chair, a sense of unease prickles at the edges of my consciousness. " I have to leave before he returns ", I think to myself. Under no circumstances do I plan to be here any longer.

Pulling on the shirt with lazy movements I steal a pair of his boxer briefs before making my way into the living room, my steps slow and deliberate. But what I find there sends a jolt of shock coursing through my veins. An older woman stands amidst the pristine surroundings of Syrius's kitchen, her figure hunched over as she diligently wipes down the countertops. The unexpected sight causes me to yelp in surprise, as my heart races with a sudden surge of adrenaline.

Confusion swirls within me as I struggle to comprehend the situation unfolding before my eyes. Who is this woman, and what is she doing in Syrius's apartment? Questions bubble to the surface of my mind, but before I can voice them, the woman turns to face me, her expression mirroring that of my own.

" I'm sorry I didn't think anyone was here ?" I pull on the shirt now seeming self conscious of my exposed skin.

" You are fine dear, I'm just as shocked to find you here as you are me, it is really rare for Mr. Djokovic to have a visitor.