The Alpha's Cat | Completed

2 ☽ Forgettable dinner

Chapter 2

Ah yes, family.

The people that are related to you by blood and should always love you, right?

Then why does my sister always steal my things? Why does my mother order me around? Is that love? Because it doesn't feel like it.

I walk up to the white front door of my house, take the key from my bag, and let myself in, pulling the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder. I look to my left to the empty living room and frown. The L-shaped grey couch has no trace of a bubbling werecat jumping on it, the glass coffee table is not filled with elementary school books, and the wall-mounted TV is off. "I'm-"

"Cat!" my mom yells, running down the light wooden stairs wild-eyed and pulling me in for a quick hug. "Hope everything was good at school and look, I have to go run an errand, so please wash the dishes for me, okay?" she says all in one breath before bolting.

I blink.

Mothers, I guess. I mean, why can't she just buy a dishwasher? Everyone has one!

With a sigh, I drag my exhausted body to my minimalist room. I'm welcomed by the tinted grey walls that instantly relax me as I carelessly throw my bag on the corner. I love my room. The wooden light desk has my laptop and a pile of books I've been reading lately about gaming design. The L-shaped wardrobe is right next to it, and a few inches away, there's the wooden bedside table with a tiny lamp on it, and the double-sized bed pressed against the wall.

I let my body fall on it, laying on my belly before closing my eyes, taking in the smell of fresh, clean sheets. I know it's a matter of seconds before I am interrupted. With a sigh, I start the countdown.

Three.

Two.

One.

"Unnie! Play with me!" screams my little sister, letting herself into my room before jumping on the bed like the eight-year-old that she is.

I'm impressed. Cleo really learned how to say big sister in Korean even though we're not. Our mom is American, born in Oregon, and our father is Angolan.

Nonetheless, I spend my days with Korean dramas, and my sister recently started to watch them with me. I think they're influencing her a bit, though.

I roll over, open my eyes, and look at her jumping around. Her light curls are falling on her back graciously as she looks down at me with those brown cat-like eyes. "Not now, Cleo. I'm tired," I say, grabbing the grey pillow and putting it over my face.

"Well, I'm not, so let's play! Or we can go ahead and catch up on Oh my Ghost!" she says-more like yells while shaking my body.

I groan, lowering the pillow enough for me to look at her. "Fine, we can watch the show, but I need to wash the dishes first. If you help me though, we can watch it sooner," I say, smiling.

She merely laughs. "My hands are never touching those dishes. Good luck with that," she says, hopping off of the bed and bolting out of the room.

I roll my eyes at her. Sisters, I guess.

I lay in bed for a few more minutes before getting up and putting on more comfortable clothes. Grey sweatpants and a black sleeveless shirt will have to do. I tie my hair up, letting my curls dangle on the side, also known as a pineapple style. I slowly walk toward the kitchen, obeying my mother's order like the good daughter that I am.

Well, honestly, I'd be happily sleeping right now if it wasn't for the money I receive from all these chores. I hear the sounds of the TV from the living room filling the silence as I wash everything.