home sweet home, c

Here's the day you hoped would never come. Don’t feed me violence, just run with me Through rows of speeding cars. The paper cuts, the cheating lovers. The coffee’s never strong enough. I know you think it’s more than just bad luck. There, there, baby, It’s just text book stuff. It’s in the ABC of growing up.

Anathema had left her apartment for a grand total of five minutes to take the trash out. And in five minutes, the lamp had burned out and someone had found their way in. She only knew that because she kicked her sandals off and stepped on glass. The woman was cussing up a storm, dancing about and trying to avoid anymore shards all while trying desperately to find another light. And she finally did, hitting against the wall and almost knocking the lamp off the end table. she turned it on and began to frantically look about the apartment, dark eyes furrowed with anger.

"Who the fuck are you?" Anathema demanded. She did not normally swear at people. In fact, Anathema did not normally swear all that much. Right now, however, she was enraged. Her foot was bleeding and there was someone on her couch. She limped over to him and gave him and angry shake.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, huh!? Get off my couch! The hell is wrong with you?" she demanded. One of her cats had come over and jumped up on the stranger. Although as Anathema shook him, she was becoming aware that he was familiar. "Holy shit, get off my couch, you asshole! I'll call the cops!"

nope

Here's the day you hoped would never come. Don’t feed me violence, just run with me Through rows of speeding cars. The paper cuts, the cheating lovers. The coffee’s never strong enough. I know you think it’s more than just bad luck. There, there, baby, It’s just text book stuff. It’s in the ABC of growing up.

Anathema's red lips parted, but only a half, choked sound came out. She recognized the bastard on her couch. He was the dimwit from next door, who she sometimes paid to do things like take her laundry to the laundry room or even go get her fast food. But he did not seem to recognize her, which might have very much so annoyed her any other day but Anathema's coy little mind was working on something. She stopped violently shaking him and just soothingly pat his hair, dark eyes narrowed.

"Don't worry, dear. I'll go grab the rent myself. Now where did you put it?" she cooed, "If you don't pay me, I might kick you out. So where is it?"

So this was probably an all time low, but he was drunk, passed out on her couch, and so he owed her some money. Plus all those times she had paid him. Like, this was karma. Or something. Anathema began feeling him up for his own keys. Mean while, the cat had crawled onto his back and made itself cozy. It was kind of like her accomplice to this, really.

nope

Here's the day you hoped would never come. Don’t feed me violence, just run with me Through rows of speeding cars. The paper cuts, the cheating lovers. The coffee’s never strong enough. I know you think it’s more than just bad luck. There, there, baby, It’s just text book stuff. It’s in the ABC of growing up.

The corner of her mouth twitched with irritation. Anathema continued feeling him up for his wallet. She slipped it out of his pocket upon finding it. "No, no, you need to tell me where your rent money is today or I will kick you out tomorrow," she hummed, thumbing through it. His ID, a photo, maybe... but no money. Anathema's face soured. "Spent all your money drinking, Damien?" she muttered bitterly under her breath. There went her dreams. Wasted just like the dumbass on her couch. She sighed and slipped the wallet back into his pocket. He probably didn't even have rent money.

"Ah, nevermind," she sighed. She looked at her foot, wincing a bit. Another cat had come over to investigate the intruder. This one crawled up, laying across his head. Anathema looked to the bathroom, which was definitely too far, and then at Damien. She shoved one of the cats aside and promptly sat on him, drawing her foot up.

"I'm going to sue you, just wait," she muttered. "Have a fun night drinking, Damien?" Her tone was far from cheery as she set about picking the piece of glass from her foot.

nope

Here's the day you hoped would never come. Don’t feed me violence, just run with me Through rows of speeding cars. The paper cuts, the cheating lovers. The coffee’s never strong enough. I know you think it’s more than just bad luck. There, there, baby, It’s just text book stuff. It’s in the ABC of growing up.

At some point, Anathema gave up on him. She was tired and her foot was hurting and she simply did not care anymore. And so she left Damien on her couch and went to bed, because she doubted he'd be the sort of person that she was and steal something. Her cats, meanwhile, were very much overcome with the stranger and took to smothering him in all their soft, furry glory.

When Anathema woke the next morning, she wasn't surprised to see Damien still on the couch. She also was not surprised to see a small puddle of vomit on the floor. Her nose crinkled and she walked into the tiny kitchen, not bothering to be quiet. Neither were the cats, the moment Anathema opened their food. One of them sat up on Damien, excitedly meowing while its little claws kneaded into his back. The others went darting into the kitchen.

"Wakey, wakey, Mister Piss-Drunk," she sang, throwing a fork into the sink so it clattered. She hoped he had a hangover. An earsplitting hangover.

nope

Here's the day you hoped would never come. Don’t feed me violence, just run with me Through rows of speeding cars. The paper cuts, the cheating lovers. The coffee’s never strong enough. I know you think it’s more than just bad luck. There, there, baby, It’s just text book stuff. It’s in the ABC of growing up.

Anathema looked at him, dark eyes riddled with early morning sleep. She had an irritated but otherwise unreadable look to them. "A rag?" she repeated, turning away from him to tend to more important matters. She crouched down, setting three small plates of food on the floor. "Kitty, kitty," she called. In came the cats, meowing and chirping and then silent as they began to eat. Anathema stood. She had a limp as she left the kitchen.

"There's a rag on the counter," she answered, looking to Damien. Her foot was wrapped up from last night. The broken glass had yet to be cleaned. She leaned her weight on her good one, arms folding over her night shirt as she looked him over. Anathema had one of those gazes that seemed to slowly pick you apart, examining over your insides with very careful consideration. And then she would, more likely than not, deem you worthless. She seemed to do that right now, turning away from Damien to go to the counter. She grabbed the rag off it and held it out. "You owe me a new lamp."

She pointed to it but kept her narrowed eyes on him. "You were so kind as to break that one."

nope