The Drummer on the Second Floor

I sat stroking Wendy’s grey fur, leaning against a wall. My watch was broke, it was either Wendy‘s doing or the rain, but I could tell it was early in the morning, the sky tells me. It’s one of the things I’ve learnt while being homeless. It’s not something I like to call myself though. The room was cold and the window was fogged with condensation. Wendy looked up at me, opening her little mouth and began meowing. I meowed back and let her pounce away from me, she went over and sniffed her food bowl and then meowed again. I looked over at the sleeping Rick, his mouth ajar and arms flailed out over the mattress. I heard Wendy scratching at her empty bowl.
“I don’t know where your food is, baby” I whisper, walking over and crouching down to her level. I patted her head, I don’t think Rick would appreciate me snooping around his cupboards. She meowed and began scratching again. I lifted her and sat her onto of Rick’s face, where she sat looking down at him. He began to toss over, Wendy dug her nails into his cheek.
“Ouch! Fuck!”
“Feed your cat, Rick,” I grin. He shot me a glare and removed his cat from his face. He slowly gets up, puts the kettle on, and digs around his cupboard for cat food.
“You’ll have to leave today, I’m afraid” he told me, scraping the cat food into the bowl. I simply nodded my head. I knew I couldn’t stay here, it’s not my place.
“It’s just, if the owner found out, I’d be chucked out, since it’s only a housing association and I only pay the rent for myself,” he smiled weakly, “I’ll help you out though, don’t worry.” I nodded my head. At least I won’t be completely alone, I’ll have food too.
“You do know if you’re caught, you’ll be taken into the services, since it’s the law and all considering you’re under sixteen,” Rick said, setting a cup in front of me and himself. I bit my lip, I didn’t think about that, my parents probably already have police searching for me, I looked down at my cup, watching the tea swirling around it.
“My parents will just take me in anyway,” I mumbled.
“You have to go back, sometime,” Rick said, leaning across the table.
“I don’t have to do anything. I never want to go back there, it just doesn’t feel right, it doesn’t feel like a family, I felt like some sort of product, I felt almost like a ghost,” I murmur, lifting my cup and placing it to my lips, the warm tea slipping down my throat and settling my stomach.
“I won’t argue,” Rick said, sipping his own tea.

~
I swung my bag over my shoulder, and made my way back to my bench. School would be starting again within the next two days. We had a week off in November and December was slowly starting to creep around. Which means the Christmas spirit will be springing up. And the snow. I’m not too sure what I’ll do then. But for now, it’s time for me and my bench to reunite.