Page 10 of Mafia and Scars

I try to calm my rising stress. Autism causes my sensory system to amplify sounds to my brain, making small sounds appear extremely loud to me.

I hate it, but it’s a common issue for people like me. It’s calledsensory processing disorder, and it’s caused by the way autism wires my brain differently.

I pull the notebook from my pocket, taking out the small pencil tucked into the spine.Six. No, seven.That’s how busy my mind is right now. My eyes flicker with hostility to the man who’s ruined my quiet before I even fucking start the day. Yeah, it’s definitely a seven. Everything is just too loud and too overstimulating. I close my eyes and fish around for my headphones. Anything to block him out so I can focus on something else. My eyes close, and I rub at my temples, trying to just get back to whatever passes as normal for me now.

Eventually the soldier leaves. The treadmill is still, the weights are back in place, and it’s quiet once more. Thank the fucking Lord.

By the time sweat drips down my back, I feel at least relatively ready to face everything outside the doors. The constant bombardment of black and white thoughts is still there inside my mind, tumbling over and over, but it’s manageable. Or as manageable as it’ll ever be.

The cool towel wrapped around my neck keeps the dry heat of Nevada off as I exit the building. Freezing mid-step, I exhale as yet another shiny can catches my eye.

Irritation bubbles up the back of my throat until a rustling in the bush makes me pause. Another rustle. A bird maybe?

As I reach for the discarded can, a flash of movement has me pulling my hand back quickly.

A soft meow sounds.

And I sigh as I realize it’s a small cat. She’s hiding beneath the shrub. “You’re…not supposed to be here,” I tell her in what I hope sounds like a stern voice. “And you’re making the placelook untidy.”

She ignores me.

“Look, you’re messing up my nice, orderly world,” I say with a small huff.

No response.

“Aw, man. C’mon, shoo!”

But my voice comes out much softer than I intend, and she still doesn’t leave.

I try a—very gentle—stamp of my foot.

Doesn’t work.

I try making a scary face at her. But not too scary—because sheisonly little.

She still does nothing.

I scowl. “Do I look like a charity or your personal pet shelter?”

But nothing happens. Well, somethingdoeshappen. Because she creeps out of the bush, one cautious paw at a time, sits down in front of me, and meows at me.

Now that I can see her properly, I notice her coloring of white with black and marmalade patches, meaning she must be a calico cat. I remember reading once that a male calico cat is extremely rare, so I know I’m right in thinking that this cat is a female. But the main thing I notice is how awfully thin she is. By the size of her, she looks like she’s still a kitten, although she’ll probably be a full-sized adult cat soon.

Tossing the metal can away, I let out a terse breath through my nostrils before jerking my head toward the house. “Fine. Come on,” I mutter.

She trots beside me, giving a soft purr as she looks up at me.

Shaking my head at her, I march back toward the house. “It’s for one nightonly. So, don’t get comfortable.”

This isn’t out of the goodness of my heart—because I don’t have a heart. And itdefinitelydoesn’t have anything to do with the fact thatthe cat is homeless and looks much too thin. I’m incapable of that sort of compassion.

“This is just to get you out of the bushes and away from the gym,” I say to the animal as she trots by my side. “Because everything needs to be tidy, clean, and in perfect order. That’s how I need it to be. Not littered with wrappers and cans and stray cats who don’t know better. That’s the only reason. So, don’t get any ideas.”

Reaching my room, she sits on the rug in front of me, and I notice the trembling in her body, like she’s suddenly not sure if this is a good idea.

I soften my expression. I must seem huge as I tower in front of her, so I crouch down to the floor. “It’s okay,” I murmur. “No one is going to hurt you here.”

After a few long seconds of staring at me, the cat carefully jumps onto my pristinely made bed, keeping one eye on me at all times.