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Disclaimer: The characters in my stories are completely made up characters and have temporally been given borrowed names for the sole purpose of satisfying the qualifications for posting on this fanfiction site. These stories are fiction and should be perceived as such. They in no way reflect the lives, beliefs or views of any persons living or dead and any similarities are coincidental. I am not affiliated with any company or professional wrestler in any way. No disrespect or copyright infringement intended. And if any of my favs happen upon my stories, I hope your not offended because this is not

This is my new rough draft. It's a high school alternate universe storyline.

Chapter 4

"Where's your paycheck?"

Thank goodness the diner paid me in cash. It was the only way I was able to hold on to a little bit each week when my father had his hand out every pay day. I guess it was discouraging to work so hard for practically nothing, but it did give me freedom and a few new clothes that my father thought I needed to get better tips.

"If she's going to be a slut she might as well use it to make money."

I hated the way my father brought up the subject of me getting a job. He made my stepmother take me to the thrift store to get a few pairs of jeans and then he sent us to the diner that had a help wanted sign in the window. I was terrified. I had never asked for a job before and no one gave me a hint of what I needed to do. I was thankful that the old man behind the counter gave me a shot because I probably would have been in for it when I got home if I hadn't gotten the job.

I was given some of my stepmother's shirts which were old but in better shape than the ones I owned. I liked how the jeans fit me. I didn't feel like I was constantly having to hold up my pants and I thought I looked a little normal. Even more so when I was forced to start wearing makeup. My stepmother did show me how to put that on and gave me some of the stuff she had in a box that she didn't like and she had a lot of stuff she hadn't liked.

The change was surprising, but I knew there was always a reason behind my father's actions. I made decent tips and a minimum wage paycheck each week. Which was generous considering the way most places paid waitresses far less just because they made tips.

Those tips helped me a lot. I was able to save money, hiding it in an abandoned shack I passed in the woods each day. I was confident that I would save enough money to buy a car by the time I had to leave for college. That was important. All I needed was a car and gas money and no one would be able to stop me. Especially since I learned I leave home at seventeen and no one could make me return home.

Gus, the cook, gave me a lot of advice. The man knew my father. I don't know how well he knew him because they always talked like old friends, but the guy had never hung around with my father. He never visited my house or anything. Sometimes the things he would say would make me think he knew something about my life.

His son Jacob ate at the diner almost every day. He stopped in for lunch before going to work every day and after that weekend, Roman started to join him.

I couldn't understand why it didn't bother me to see so much of him. It only bothered me when I caught him staring at me a certain way.

I was glad he was there when the goons he hung out with showed up. They were always there on Saturdays, and popped in randomly during the week. He always spoke up when they teased me. I guess he was trying to make up for what happened that day because he'd never said anything when they bothered me before that day.

"Hey Frizzilla!" John called out every time he showed up. He was worse when he came with his friends and he had five with him the week before school started back. They were making a lot of noise in the diner. Disturbing the other customers.

"Hey, can you guys keep it down?" It was part of my job to quiet down rowdy patrons, but I usually had to do that with the youth baseball team that came in after their games. Nine year olds not guys who were nearly adults.

"Keep it down?" John smirked. "Yeah, we'll keep it down."

"Thank you." I took their order and headed away. Everything seemed to be going smooth. They didn't seem occupied with other subjects besides bullying me.

The place was packed. I was running everywhere all at once it seemed, but I loved it. I enjoyed our busy nights more than anything else. I made great tips and I smiled and laughed more than I ever did any other part of my life.

"Order up!"

I heard that little bell and filled a large tray with five plates, headed to drop them off at a table and tripped over the leg that was thrust out in front of me as I passed. The table of goons roared with laughter as my face smacked the floor and I sat in mess of spilled entrees. It felt like I had broken my whole face and the pool of red beneath my nose was not ketchup.

"Keep it down." John mocked and shoved me down with a foot each time I tried to get up.

"Back off." Gus was there helping me to my feet. I was stunned. He escorted me to a stool and dabbed the blood from my nose. The other waitress started cleaning up the mess. The whole place was really loud with chatter.

Then a finger lifted up my chin and I stared into Roman's eyes. I'd never seen that look on his face before. Not even that day in the woods.

"Have a nice fall, Frizzilla?" John teased and his whole table still roared with laughter.

Roman stormed over and jerked John out of the booth by his shirt. John was a big guy and Roman shoved him out the door like he was a rag doll. They argued outside. John pushed Roman and Roman came back with a punch to his jaw, knocking him to the ground. And he didn't let up until the others pulled him off.

They continued to yell. Roman was held back by two guys and I wondered if they were all going to attack him.

"What the hell is your problem?" John yelled wiping blood from his lip.

I heard bits a pieces though the door opening when a customer went out.

"I told you not to touch her!" Roman bellowed.

"Her? Roman? Really? You're going to give up our friendship for that nerd?"

"What did she ever do to deserve what you did in there?" Roman asked in a calmer tone. He shook off the guys that held him. "It's funny how you only push around people weaker than you, John." He spat. "But you and I both know that you're terrified of me – That's my girl – you might want to remember that. Every damn one of you better remember that."

Then he walked back into the diner and sat down in a booth even though it was still covered with the discarded remnants of the prior customer's meal.

He seemed really pissed off. Jacob joined him and they talked. Roman tossed pieces of the napkin he was tearing across the table. Jacob seemed to be trying to calm him down.

"Go on home," Gus insisted. "Keep an ice pack on, maybe it won't bruise so badly."

I nodded, grabbed my purse and headed out. I was a little scared to walk near the group still hanging around outside. Especially when they stopped talking and stared at me as I passed.

"I'm driving you home." Roman placed an arm around my shoulder and escorted me to his truck. "Get in." He growled when I hesitated, his eyes narrowed at John and the goon squad.

I wasn't comfortable sitting next to Roman in that truck and I trembled when he took a turn off the road that led to my home. He took me down a dirt path almost grown over by shrubs and trees and parked in front of a cliff with a river below it.

I guess he anticipated my next move because he locked the doors before I could grab the door handle. I couldn't unlock it from my side and there was knob to pull on. I was stuck. Waiting for him to do whatever he had on his mind.

He didn't do anything but stare ahead with his hands wringing in front of him. We were there about an hour before he finally spoke.

"I – um." He took in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I took a pill today and – and – I – shouldn't be here with you."

"What did you bring me here for Roman?"

"I just planned to take you home." He sighed. "Then … I'm not completely clean. Some days I can't …"

I don't know what caused me to turn sideways and touch his hand, but I did.

"Why me?" I had to know. Was I just an easy target? Was it because he knew I would keep my mouth shut?

"I have these strong urges and I'm fighting a battle trying to control myself." He told me. "I'm – I need to take you home."