Alley Cat
The One and Only Bronxite Lioness

Sleep paralysis. It happens to the best of us.

My eyelids are glued shut despite my painstaking attempts at ripping them apart. My first instinct is to panic, and it makes everything worse. I try to sit up, wiggle my fingers, jerk my knees, but to no avail. I remain helplessly immobile. Darkness crowds in on me from all sides, pushing down on my chest so that I can’t breathe. For a moment, I’m certain that I’m dead. It feels like I’m trapped in an endless void. It would be much more forgiving if I ceased to exist.

I relinquish every attempt to fight and immerse myself further into the void. I expect to disappear. I want my consciousness to wash away like how an incoming tide washes away footprints on sand. I prepare myself for the worst but as the pattern of my life has shown me, I’m not quite done yet. I hear people talking. It’s hard to tell from which direction, so I listen.

“Helene’s always been...sensitive.” I recognize the voice as Shirisha. She sounds worried, tired even. The exhaustion in her words comes off as genuine and sincere, making it impossible to inflict any offense. “She feels everything much stronger than I do. She loves harder than most and that’s why it’s so hard for her to handle pain. She feels everything in excess.”

A cold-hearted scoff follows the confession which further wounds my pride. “I can see why you left her. I don’t know how you did it, enduring her for so many years. I hate taking care of people; they always drag you down. Why do you think I never had children?”

I don’t recognize the other voice. It’s alto, feminine, and heavily accented but it’s hard to tell from where. Without seeing her, I can tell that Shirisha is shaking her head.

“I regret it. At the time, I was only thinking of myself.”

“As you should!” The stranger says with all the confidence and righteousness in the world. “You know what it’s like for people like us. We. Are. Werecats. We live nine lifetimes of treachery and trauma. It is how it is. You shouldn’t be responsible for taking care of some puny domestic like her. It’s a wonder how she managed to survive this long. Did you say 800 years?”

Shirisha’s voice grows warm with anger when she defends me. “She managed to survive because she’s strong! And her name is Helene.” She says my name with such emphasis that it surprises me. I feel honored and insulted at the same time. “And since I’m the one that has come to you for help, Kaya, I’ll spare you from my lecture. But just to be clear, I saved you from getting raped before you were old enough to divide fractions. So I suggest you humble yourself and remember where you came from.”

The stranger shuts up immediately (not that I blame her). As vexing and prideful as she appears, I know well enough that every werecat hates being reminded of the time when they were human. Sometimes we forget that we weren’t born invincible. We were born naked and vulnerable like every other living creature on earth.

It doesn’t take long for the stranger to recover from the blow. “Fine. Let’s just wait for your precious Helene to wake up. I’m dying to meet this infamous kitten.”

I detect something sickly in her tone. I assume that she’s jealous although I don’t see why she should. Like Shirisha said, I’m excessive, sensitive, and unstable. There’s nothing admirable about me other than I’m exceptional at causing trouble and ruining all my relationships.

I let Shirisha’s opinion sit with me for a while, and I feel my heart sink. It’s true. I can’t even deny it, yet I spent the last five hundred years hating her for leaving me. I believed I was blameless, that I was the real victim. What if I was the one that drove Shirisha away? I was such a different person when Shirisha found me. I was scared, weak, helpless. All I ever did was cling to her. I depended on her for everything. Never once did I think about how Shirisha felt having to take care of me all the time or how draining it must have been for her.

Just as when I’m about to fall apart upon discovering my revelation, I hear Shirisha’s voice break through the void. “Trust me. You’ll like her. She’s like...a little firefly. You know, the ones that light up in the dark? I’ve never met anyone so alive.”

Shirisha’s voice pulls me out of the void with a tremendous force and launches me into the light. I wake up in a bed that’s not my own. My eyes pry open and my mouth widens to suck in a sharp gasp of air. I jolt awake into a sitting position, panting as I do so. My gaze flits around my unfamiliar surroundings, taking in everything at once. The sheets are a luxurious navy blue. The walls are gray, decorated with South African tribal art. There’s a nightstand beside the bed with a full glass of water waiting for me. Before I could even think about reaching for the water, a pinching pain in my thigh deters me from my aim. I remove the covers to find a yellow dart embedded in the meat of my thigh. I yank it out from my flesh with quick speed and storm towards the door.

“SHIRISHA!” I yell after her as I descend down a flight of stairs. “SHIRISHA!”

The stairs lead me down to a living room that’s packed with the smell of roasted coffee beans. The aroma hits me like a wave, distracting me from my panic and anger. I would have stopped in the midst of my rage to enjoy the smell, if it hadn’t been for the sight of Shirisha casually sipping a cup of coffee from a comfortable place on the couch. The moment she notices my presence, my hand hovers over my shoulder with the dart in my grasp and I throw. Shirisha single-handedly catches the dart before it gets the chance to hit her face. She examines the dart with an amused smile and says in a cheerful sweet manner, “Good morning to you too, Beautiful!”

“Where am I? And why the HELL did you stab me with a tranquilizer dart?”

My anger blinds me to the point that I don’t notice the woman sitting beside her on the couch. She’s a young South African woman whose astonishing beauty would have stopped me dead in my tracks had it not been for my crippling rage. Her ebony skin glows under gentle lamp light and her enormous mane of hair unfurls itself down her rounded shoulders in springy tight coils. I can tell that she’s watching me through her dramatic false lashes. She tries to hide her smile behind her coffee cup.

Shirisha scoots over and pats down on an empty seat next to her on the couch. “Have a seat, Hel. We even saved a cup for you.”

I’m so angry that I render myself speechless. Only Shirisha would tranquilize someone and offer them a cup of coffee. Shirisha sighs as she pours another cup for herself. She drinks it black. “My dear, the reason why I tranquilized you was to save you from your little meltdown. You could have burned down the entire subway.”

My anger cools as I focus on the empty gap in my memory. Now that I’m thinking about it, I seem to have a lot of gaps. The realization of it nearly sends me into another panic attack until the young woman mutters a snarky remark.

“Shirisha…” she says in a playful sing-song manner. “You got any more of those darts?”

Her interruption gives me a perfect opportunity for me to turn my frustration towards her. Before I can unleash a wave of insults that I know I’ll come to regret, Shirisha stops me by wagging a finger in the air. “I’d be nice to her if I were you, Helene. Kaya has been kind enough to let us stay in her humble abode. It’s always wise to respect your host.”

My brain feels like it’s turned into a pile of mush. “Kaya?” I mouth the woman’s name in my mouth. KAH-YAH. Her name has a familiar ring in my ears. Could she be the same woman I heard talking in my dreams?

Kaya removes herself from her seat and walks over towards me. She’s very tall, possibly standing at 5’10 or 5’11, with a figure that’s both strong and lithe. She’s fit to be a model (if models also did combat). Her traditional yellow dress hugs her figure, accentuating her full hips. Her amber eyes narrow on me and her thick lips curl into an open smile. She takes me by the hands and leads me to the couch. “Come, Helene. Please don’t be intimidated. Any friend of Shirisha is a friend of mine.”

I sit down on the couch and Kaya urges me to drink my coffee. I take meager sips as Shirisha and Kaya watch me with eager eyes. After all Shirisha has done to me, I can’t risk lowering my guard. I keep my gaze on them as I drink.

“Bet-ah?” Kaya’s accent sounds so charming that I can’t help but envy her. Instead of answering her, I turn to Shirisha.

“Where’s Todd?”

Shirisha points to a corner of the living room where Todd is chasing another cat. They’re fighting over a feather duster, and the sight brings a smile to my face. My smile doesn’t last long though; it fades at the sound of Kaya’s voice.

“As you can see, your cat is safe and sound. You can always feel at ease in my home.”

I take a break to take another sip of my coffee. The robust aroma clears my mind, soothing my agitation. At last when I feel that I’m ready, I turn to Kaya. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you two meet?”

Kaya looks down at her coffee cup and exhales a brief sigh. “Well...I met her as a little girl during the 80s. South Africa was going through appartheid at the time. It was a very brutal period, and she saved me from getting sexually assaulted.” Kaya’s face darkens as she stares into the recessive black pool in her cup. She recovers quickly, though, and puts on a brave face. “Ever since then, I owed Shirisha my life. We kept in touch over the years. She’s been a very dear friend of mine.”

Without having to turn my head, I can tell Shirisha is blushing. “Kaya, you make me sound like some kind of hero.”

Kaya looks at her with all the esteem in the world. “You are a hero. You are my hero.”

And like the ass I am, I ruin their intimate moment with an intrusive question. “If Shirisha saved you, how did you become a werecat?”

Kaya’s speech is cut off by her surprise. She’s taken aback that I know, and it amuses me to see her shocked. “You reek of cat.”

Shirisha’s voice rises incredibly high; she’s embarrassed on my behalf. “Helene!”

“Or maybe you love your cat so much that you made your perfume match its overfilled litter box.”

Kaya quickly recovers from the blow and conceals her wounded pride with a mischievous grin. I bet she’s calculating all the best ways to torture a cat like me. It’s not like I care. After what I heard Shirisha say about me, I’ve accepted the fact that I’m defective. I may as well stop hiding it.

Kaya forces a laugh that’s harsh and elegant at the same time. “Well it’s not like I have anything to hide. I became a werecat quite recently when I got caught in a drive by shooting not too far from here. I can even show you where I died. It never ceases to give me chills.”

“So you died here and you still have the nerve to stay?” I raise an arched brow. Despite my decided dislike of this girl, I’m impressed and Kaya sees it. “That’s brave of you, considering you were mercilessly killed by wolves and The Bronx is werewolf territory and all.”

A huge grin fights its way to Kaya’s face. I’ve said the one thing she’s been waiting to hear. She presses her lips together, trying to hide her swelling pride. But as I understand werecat nature all too well, it proves quite impossible. “Helene, dear. I don’t fear the wolves. They fear me.”

Shirisha puts down her coffee, and I know for sure that things are getting serious. “Helene,” she says with the heaviest decorum that I would never expect to come from her. “You are talking to the one and only Bronxite Lioness.”

For a moment, I’m glad that I had put down my coffee cup earlier or else there would have been an unflattering mess to expose my awe. You see, unlike werewolves, our hierarchy of power is based off of species instead of our role within a group. At the very top are the kings and queens of the safari, our lions and lionesses. And like royalty, they’re very hard to come by. Out of my 800 years of experience as a werecat, I’ve only ever heard of them through history and gossip. So to meet one in the living flesh? Kaya may as well have slapped me in the face.

Lions are physically strong and their ambition often leads them to grab positions of power. They make very ruthless rulers who engrave their names into the book of infamy. If Kaya really wanted to, she could have killed me on the spot and stared into my eyes romantically as I choked on my own blood.

Where the other werecats lie isn’t very hard to guess. The only other cat that has a real chance at defeating a lion is the tiger. They come neck to neck; a fight between a lion and tiger would go down in history. Leopards and panthers come in at third. Cougars run in at miserable fourth. The smaller werecats like lynxes, bobcats, ocelots, etc. are second to last. You can probably guess by now where I lie on the hierarchy of power. I’m at the very bottom of the food chain, a mere domestic. I’m a fucking peasant in Kaya’s eyes.

In order to reserve the remnants of my dignity, my strangled voice manages to spit out a couple of flattering words. “Oh, that’s interesting. You have...a lovely house.” To my utter shock and dismay, the house seems to have grown bigger and more luxurious after digesting Shirisha’s revelation. “I...I really like the decor. It’s very tasteful.”

Kaya relishes in all the flattery I’m throwing her way. “Thank you,” she says with a very puffed out chest. “These relics were actually stolen by the French when they colonized a large portion of West Africa, so I bought all of them back.”

My jaw drops. “All of them?”

Kaya winces. “Well...almost all of them. There’s only so many I could fit in my modest abode, so I sent the rest back to their rightful origins and every year I profit off of a yearly art exhibition which I host in my own home.”

Now it’s Shirisha’s turn to show off Kaya’s assets. “Kaya is actually a multi-millionaire who sources her main income off a wide range of projects that are but are not limited to extending clean-water technology to impoverished places and investing in stock. She’s also been showcased on the cover of Forbes magazine as the most influential woman in the world and occasionally models for Vogue.”

My palms squeeze together hard as I deplete all my remaining strength to avoid rolling my eyes at Kaya’s achievements. I muster an adequate amount of self-control when speaking through my tightly clenched teeth. “That’s very impressive and all but can we please get back to the main gist. There is, after all, a legitimate reason why we came here.”

“Of course!” Shirisha throws her hands in the air with all the excitement of a rave dancer. “While you were peacefully sleeping upstairs––”

“––because you stabbed with a tranquilizing dart.” Bitterness creeps into my words which Shirisha dismisses like usual.

“––Kaya and I were talking and she says that she can sneak us into the biggest party in The Bronx.”

A long groan collapses my spirit as I’m reminded of Shirisha’s vanity. “Shirisha. People are getting killed and you’re taking us to go clubbing?”

Shirisha exchanges looks with Kaya which I can only guess that treads amongst the lines of, Helene’s so endearing, isn’t she? The dumb ones are always so much cuter!

Just sitting still while Shirisha and Kaya poorly attempt at concealing their smirks is pure torture. To my surprise, Shirisha’s smirk fades, making way for a grave countenance. “We’re not clubbing, Helene. We’ll be attending a very important party hosted by Antonio Rodriguez, the CEO of Aeternum Pharmaceuticals. You know, the same company Luis was smuggling drugs from?”

My face turns beet red after realizing how far my first assumption strayed from Shirisha’s logical plan. “That...makes more sense.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Kaya joins in with her arms folded smugly over her chest. “I received a direct invitation from Antonio himself, and he said I could bring as many guests as I wanted.”

“Great! So when’s the party?”

“Tonight.” When Kaya says this, I feel my guts tie themselves into knots. It’s been a dreadfully long time since I attended a party, let alone a formal one. I’ve completely forgotten the entire painstaking process that went into preparing for a party.

As if reading my thoughts, Kaya and Shirisha hook their arms with mine. Shirisha tells me reassuringly, “Come now, Helene. Let’s not waste any time. Kaya booked the entire day for us to get a total makeover! We’re gonna get our hair done, go shopping for outfits, do our makeup…”

I shake my head wildly. The thought of dedicating an entire day to vanity fills me with dread and anxiety. I’m afraid I’ll suffocate to death if Kaya and Shirisha force me to squeeze into double layer spanx. And even with all the work put into making us nice and pretty, there’s still a chance we’ll expose ourselves as cats in a werewolf party. I force myself to shake my head free of the troubling thoughts. Shirisha’s a genius and Kaya’s a graceful mastermind. There’s no way for me to mess this up, right?

Kaya runs her fingers through my hair and examines them with a sore wince. “We really need to do something about your hair.”

I recoil, breaking away from our linking arms to grab my hair. I notice that it’s long and frizzy when I look down at the ends. “It’s not even that bad!”

Kaya glances over at Shirisha and they come to a mutual conclusion. “To the salon!” Shirisha screams it like a battle cry before dragging me towards the door. Kaya beats her to the car and helps her throw me in. I barely have any time to fight or struggle before I find myself glowering at Shirsha as she straps me in with a million seatbelts.

“I hate you.”

As always, Shirisha manages to twist my words in her messed up mind. She bats her dark eyelashes at me and says with a swoonful sigh, “You love me.”

Kaya stomps on the accelerator, making everybody in the car lurch forward to the front window. We all scream on the fifty-minute drive. Shirisha screams in exhilaration, I in terror, and Kaya in fury as she tackles NYC traffic hours.

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