13. Who Is That?

Cas’ pov

“Mommy? Who is that?” A tiny voice asked, waking me up.

How the fuck did I fall asleep on that horrible sofa? It was so uncomfortable and mind-blowingly tiny, too. Who even makes sofas this fucking small? God, what the hell was I thinking coming here?

At least Ripley let me touch her. And she opened up, kind of. Which meant she was getting used to me? Or maybe she was starting to like me?

“Shit.” Ripley mumbled under her breath, looking up at me.

We had dozed off on that tiny ass sofa. The whole place was tiny. One room, which held the kitchen and living room. It was filled with toys and cushions. Like, how many cushions does a small sofa need?

And then crap everywhere. Picture frames, flowers, toys, and even more toys and papers. Just shit everywhere.

It looked sort of clean last night, but in the light of day, it dawned on me what a crap apartment this was. Do people actually live like this?

“This is my friend, um. Mr. Hemming.” Ripley said, standing up from the sofa