11:30pm, at my step-mum’s house. Her evil pale-ginger cat, a sufferer of little-man syndrome, pushes the door open and begins to purr a purr so loud it would put the dying engine of my dad’s car to shame. Rusty and I, well we don’t get along too well. For the sake of the rest of the family, we play nice when they are around, but when they aren’t, it’s guaranteed that Rusty will be there to meaninglessly attack me and/or annoy me.
He’d been doing that recently; coming into my room when I’d just fallen asleep and wake me. Before he had a chance to jump up onto my back and start clawing me in the name of affection, I’d picked him up from under his front legs, dropped him outside the door, and locking it before he had a chance to come back in. He pushed against the door, gently at first, but soon enough he was hitting it so hard I expected the door frame to fly off and for him in some evil, 7 foot tall, wild-eyed form to come in, teeth bared