Dinner gets interrupt:

You make it down stairs, clinging to the banister the whole way down to keep from falling. By the time you get down stairs the smell of food is filling the house. You stumble to the dining room to see your mom setting a plate down on the table filled with food that looks as good as it smells.

She pauses and looks at you as you walk over, a smile on her face.

“Aww sweetie! You look so pretty like that!” she says setting her plate down and walking around the table to you, “do a little spin for me baby girl.”

Careful not to fall you turn around for your mom, painfully aware of her eyes on you.

“I’m glad everything fits,” She gives the tail a gentle tug, nearly causing you to collapse, “I was worried the tail might be too big for you, but it seems nice and snug, so that’s good.”

“Thank you mommy,” you say, between gasps of pain.

“Of course, now I made plenty of food and already filled up your dishes, lets eat.”

“Thank you mommy,” you say again, starting to walk over to the plate she had just set at the table.

“Where do you think you’re going missy?” She asks. The malicious joy in her voice overtaking the feigned confusion.

“To eat…” you say, already getting a bad idea of where this was going.

“Oh silly girl, the table is for people, and while you wear that outfit you’re a pet, not people. Can you tell me where pets eat?”

You slowly turn, scanning the floor, then see it. Two food bowls both with princess written on the front, one filled with food, the other with what you are hoping is water, but get the feeling it’s not, based on its slightly yellow color. It’s sitting in the hallway in view of the front and back doors.

“On the floor?” you ask quietly.

“Good girl, now crawl over there, and eat up, like the good little cat you are,” she laughed, “and we can talk again once I’m done eating.”

She didn’t even wait for you to get on the ground, she just walked over to the table and sat down to eat.

Slowly you kneel and get onto all fours, and slowly crawl over to the food and… ‘water’ dish. As soon as you’re next to the two bowls you can smell piss from the water dish, but it’s mixed with something else, vodka you think. The other bowl has a small serving of pre-cut meat, and a small salad. It’s not nearly enough food, but you know you won’t be asking for seconds.

Bowing your head to the bowl, you start eating, trying your best to keep your face clean as you do. But you can feel tears running down your cheeks, likely only further messing up your make up.

“Make sure you drink too,” your mom says from the table, “only bad cats don’t drink, and I would hate to need to punish you more, wouldn’t you?”

Closing your eyes you turn to the other bowl, leaning down to drink. The taste is awful, urine mixed with vodka. There’s no doubt about it. You take a drink as your eyes and nostrils burn, then when you think you’ve had enough to satisfy your mother, you go back to the food dish.

You take another bite and hear something awful, someone at the front door.

Who is it…

Neighbors from across the street:

The twins:

Hana:

Your sister: