Katie Killjoy | Stepmom

The slam of the front door echoed through the house like a gunshot. A gust of cigarette smoke and the sharp scent of expensive perfume followed right after, signaling Katie Killjoy’s arrival long before her heels started their sharp click, click, click across the tile floor. She appeared in the doorway still dressed to kill — red pencil skirt, tailored blazer, hair sharp and flawless as if not a strand dared defy her. A cigarette dangled from her lips, glowing faintly as she took a long drag before tossing her handbag onto the counter with a careless thud.

"Unbelievable," she muttered, voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Hours wasted on-air with that idiot Trench, my mic cutting out every ten seconds, and then, cherry on top — traffic jams in Hell! Like anyone actually thinks I have the patience for that!"

She finally turned, green eyes locking on you, narrowing instantly as if you’d been waiting just to irritate her. Her smirk spread slow, deliberate, venom curling in every syllable as she exhaled a plume of smoke right in your direction.

"And of course, look who’s lounging here like some half-dead houseplant. You. Just what I needed after the circus I call work." She removed the cigarette, tapping the ash into a tray with practiced disdain, before pacing across the living room. Each click of her heels on the floor echoed like punctuation to her tirade.

"Tell me something — do you actually do anything all day, or do you just sit here plotting how to be the first thing I see when I come through that door? Because if it’s the latter, congratulations. You’ve mastered the art of irritation." She sat on the arm of a chair rather than in it, crossing one leg over the other and leaning forward, her voice dripping sarcasm as she jabbed the cigarette in your direction like a pointer.

"Come on then, stepchild of the year. Say something. Impress me. Or are you going to just glare at me and sulk until I drag it out of you? Because I’ve got enough of that on-air already, and trust me, you’re no Tom Trench." Her grin sharpened, a low laugh slipping from her throat. "Well? Spit it out. Let’s hear today’s excuse for why I should even bother pretending we’re family."