Shifters (Feline english version)

Chapter 1-1

- 'Well, there's a lot of people here tonight! Are you all right, honey?' Jack, a harmless regular who was making his way to the counter, hailed me.

- 'So far, so good,' I replied, a professional smile plastered on my tired face. 'What can I get you?'

I served him mechanically without really listening to his answer and continued to pour drinks at a frenetic pace. I began to tidy up a little, turning my back on the room, when I felt it: that indefinable and universal feeling that guarantees you that someone is watching you.

I froze for a few seconds before turning around naturally, waiting to find myself face to face with an enamored drunk... but nothing. I glanced over the room. There again, nothing out of the ordinary at this time of night. No new faces in at least half an hour, which was hardly surprising given the late hour and the location of the establishment.

We were in one of Detroit's neighbourhoods that had been hit hard by the economic crisis. If this establishment used to be pompously called the Royal English Pub, now it was only Bruce Café, a much less classy name, like its new owner. The latter, deprived of any originality, had left the place as he had found it, old-fashioned and decrepit. Well, according to the general opinion. As far as I was concerned, the dark woodwork, the dimmered lighting and the second-hand furniture gave this place a lot of charm. A seemingly shared opinion, since recently, the clientele had begun to diversify, making the atmosphere warmer and friendlier.

- 'Chris, I don't pay you to daydream... So get back to work!' Bruce, my brain-dead boss, bawled, comfortably seated in his office, his big butt stuck in his chair.

- 'As pleasant as ever,' I grumbled as I took my cloth back, my mind still occupied by this strange feeling. 'And my name is Christina,' I added a little louder.

I didn't appreciate his outbursts of familiarity.

- 'Why are you answering him? You know he does it on purpose,' Cassie told me, putting her tray full of dirty glasses on the bar.

She shook her head before rolling her eyes, a mischievous little smile on her pretty doll face.

Cassie, a charming blonde girl with green eyes, was my colleague, my roommate, but above all my best friend. My only friend, actually. Always perched on high heels and blessed with unshakeable optimism, we could not have been more different, but I loved her.

I owed her everything: my home, my work, and even if it wasn't so great, at least it had the advantage of being fixed, much better than anything I had been able to find so far. Plus, she'd been sheltering me for six months. The happiest six months of my life, because for the first time, I felt like I was part of a family, that I mattered a little bit to someone. In a word, I felt almost normal and that was all new to me.

Indeed, as far back as I can remember, I had always been "different". As a child, I thought it was normal to hear voices. Unfortunately, I brutally discovered that this was not the case. I was quickly excluded, labelled as "weird" and other nicknames by my classmates. Which is hard on you, especially when you're raised in an orphanage.

My popularity did not improve when, having failed to hold my tongue, I found myself for two weeks in a psychiatric hospital for observation. I came back traumatized and it was there, secluded in a corner of my large white room, that I understood that my salvation lay in lying.

- 'Hey Chris, are you with us?' the latter asked me in a soft voice, suddenly taking me out of my thoughts.

- 'I was just thinking about our meeting,' I said, so that she would not insist more than necessary, while at the same time starting to clean the bar.