"Hi," I whisper with a small smile, hoping to make him feel at ease. Then Snarp and I scootch in under the bed, pushing intothe warm mass that is half warm velvety shadow and half hard solid mass. I curl against what might be the shadow’s chest, holding Snarp between us. The floor is hard, but the warmth and presence of the monster under my bed makes the hole in my chest smaller. It’s not long before I close my eyes and fall asleep.
When I wake, Snarp and I are tucked in my bed with no sign of the shadow monster as daylight breaks through the burlap window coverings. I jump up so I can crawl under the bed again, hoping he’s still there, but I find nothing.
"What are you doing, you little freak?" Georgia asks.
I twist to look up at the older girl, but don’t answer.
She rolls her eyes and yanks me up by the arm. "Time to make breakfast for mommy dearest."
An alarm blares, and my eyes crack open. Elijah, or maybe his wife, angrily pounds at the wall. I smack my hand on the clock, cutting off the buzzer. Cold pre-dawn light filters in through the edges of my black curtains. Dust motes fly in the streams of light, and I can’t decide if the effect looks like heaven or hell.
I stand up, but before I stretch my body, I get down on my knees and check under the bed.
Nothing.
"I’ll return tomorrow."
Hope swells in my heart, but the organ is atrophied so the feeling hurts more than not.
The memory of Shadow’s blazing red eyes returns to me. Something was wrong with him when he showed up, more than just his anger with me. An edge of wild feral energy whipped around him even as he berated me for my foolish behavior.
A ghastly creak precedes the water exploding from the shower head. With a couple quick, bracing breaths, I plunge intothe icy cascade. My skin screams against the shockingly cold water.
A month ago, I overheard a woman, who owns one of the houses we clean, talk on the phone with her friend about how she is into something called Wim Hof. It’s a system where she deliberately turns on ice cold water for thirty seconds. As I cleaned the kitchen counters and the microwave out, I filed away each of the benefits she listed.
Better circulation, improves focus, boosts concentration, combats depression… Well, I don’t know about that last one, but ever since then, every time I take a freezing shower, I pretend to be that rich woman doing it for health benefits.
By the time I’ve scrubbed myself clean and dried off, I’m fully awake, skin tingling with a raw but temporary pain.
I pop a piece of white bread into the toaster and down a glass of water. Glancing at my watch, I see there’s no time for a cup of tea. Sticking the toast between my teeth, I shrug my puffy purple coat on and head out. A car honks as soon as I open the door. Helena, Marie, and Alice are already in the car waiting for me. I quickly lock up and hurry down the flight of stairs. Tiny snowflakes pirouette around me in the gray, dismal morning, an echo of the dust motes in my bedroom.
Sucking in a deep breath that brings in a biting cold to my lungs, I try not to focus on how I hate the daytime. He never comes when there is daylight.
Anticipation claws inside me, desperate for tonight, desperate to see Shadow.
I shut the door after cramming myself into the already full car of women.
"You were almost late," Helena says, glancing at me through the rearview mirror as she pulls away from the curb.
The girls laugh.
I allow myself a small smile. I’m never late. It’s one of the ways I’ve made myself invaluable to Helena’s crew. Aside from taking on double the jobs.
Now if only I could count on Shadow not to be late, but it really doesn’t matter. I’ll stay up all night if need be.
Cleaning goes by painfully slowly, and I have to check my tone to keep from snapping at the other girls. Helena arches a brow as she notes my bloodshot eyes and haggard face, so I tell her the truth—I didn’t sleep much.
When I get home, I can’t keep my eyes off the bedroom even as I open a can of SpaghettiOs and warm them on the hot plate. My attention is only pulled to the front door when I hear an insistent meowing.
I open the door, and a lanky black cat enters with a cold gust of wind that bites at my bare flesh. The apartment is too warm again, so I’ve stripped down to shorts and an oversized tee shirt.
If I don’t get the thermostat fixed soon, my entire next paycheck will be gone before it even comes in. A bead of stress sweat rolls down between my breasts, leaving an uncomfortable itch in its wake.
"Hey there," I say, scratching the black cat’s head. It doesn’t have a collar, but I think it belongs to a neighbor. Whoever owns the cat doesn’t feed it much though. I grab a small can of tuna and open it up before setting it on the ground. "There you go."
The cat dives into the can, lapping up the meat chunks with single-minded focus.
Later, the cat will paw at the door until I let it out again. I’ve never bothered giving it a name or figured out its sex. Since it’s not my cat, there’s no use trying to pretend we belong toeach other. We are just a couple of mangy independent animals scrounging to get by. I give the cat food and the cat gives me some affection. We’ve struck a good bargain.
