Wintry

I unhook my jacket, tugging it over my shoulders. Whether I wanted or didn't want it, I had to work. I'd spent nearly twice as much money than usual this month, mostly because of the ashen boy whining with sickness on top of my blankets.

He'd disappear once in a while, to come back with blood staining his lips.

"Are you sure it's working?" I sigh, crossing my arms together. "Animal blood. Do you think it's making it better for you?"

Because I didn't think so at all.

He forces a nod, before returning to a groaning cocoon on the wooden floor.

"W-When are you going to be back?"

"Late tonight." I say, and his eyes widen. "You know already— I work as a taxi driver, remember?"

"Late?"

I breathe. Then I twist the door open, calling over my shoulder.

"If you think you need help, call Christian Shadow. I left the phone—"

And then I walk straight into someone, my head crashing into the middle of something firm.

Speak of the devil.

"Me?"

What in the @$$&@$ world?

Christian Shadow gives me a cold