“You told me yourself you’d rather spend money on clothes than a safer apartment.” She continues to stare, then her looks turn catlike and for the first time, I see it. The nickname everyone else calls her, how it fits her perfectly. She is a cat. “What if I need more?” she asks, and I fight back a smile of my own, instead leaning forward to grab my wallet from my back pocket. I open it up and grab my personal credit card, putting it in her hand and curling her small fingers around the black plastic. “I got you stuck in this situation; you get whatever you need. Make it hurt, kitten.” I
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