A/N: Hey I'm sad and stressed, so I'm here! Feels nice to write, despite its themes.
Enjoy.


"You're late, Price."

After all the shit I had to put up with today, I wasn't afraid of this man. In fact, I had no emotions. I think I was switching between full anger and then nothing. And I have a feeling it was gonna last a while. Either way, I wasn't gonna waste my energy on him.

"I have to take the bus." I shrugged my shoulders. "Nothing else I could do, Mayor Amber."

He hated me already; I could see it in his face. He looked like how I imagined a man in politics would look like. A generic blue suit, dark blue because that was politics chic, and a red tie with a stupid American flag pin on it—typical political looking man. I had a feeling he would constantly be pissed about anything and everything for no reason. It must be fucking tiring to be around him all the time.

Behind him, his daughter was standing, still in her uniform. Strangely, I didn't feel the same kind of anger when I looked at her. It was still anger, maybe because I still wanted to be stubborn, but I could feel it was a lot less. Maybe from the whole bathroom incident and she was holding her promise. I couldn't read her face; I couldn't tell what she was feeling. I could sense there was something, like sympathy, but it didn't show. Though, when our eyes did meet, she didn't look away. I wasn't sure what feeling it was, maybe from remembering what I did. Right, I feel regret and guilty for doing that to her. I clenched my jaw and turned away, looking at her dad again.

"Figure it out tomorrow! I can't have you working this late!" There was some bite in his words but, still, I felt nothing.

Well, if you'd shut up I could get started. I allowed myself into the house, seeing it in its empty glory, now void of students and crazy amounts of beer. Everything looked expensive with high ceilings, shiny wooden floors, brick in some places for aesthetics, patterned and uncomfortable looking couches and chairs, and just wood everything else. It looked like everything is blending together.

"Rachel, go to the guest room." He placed his hand on her shoulder, pushing her towards the hallway. "Now, you defaced my daughter's room, my basement, and my office, along with its books, furniture, and the rest of the items on the desk."

No, all the shit on your desk was destroyed because a dudebro jock threw me on it. Shit... Did he say Amber's room?

"Here," he handed me a jumpsuit, "to remind you that you're here to work. Make sure you're wearing that when you come here. You'll be starting in the basement, where you will paint the walls again. Chop chop!"

I rolled my eyes and I searched for a bathroom, shutting the door to wear this janitor suit. It was covered in paint stains already and had faded spots, showing its age. They probably had their own janitor; I wouldn't be shocked from the look of it. I looked in the mirror, seeing how bruised my eye was and how this suit fit me perfectly. I shoved my clothes into my backpack and left the bathroom, going to the basement. I was scared to see what it looked like while sober.

Getting to the bottom, it was… fucking horrible. Every wall was covered in every color, layered on and on and dripping down from so much paint, with those phrases I remember with how much we hated everyone, of course Amber specifically, along with crude drawings of dicks. I wish it was just a bad dream or my fucked up mind hallucinating all of it.

Standing for even a second of silence, the noise in my head started. A high-pitched ringing noise in both of my ears. Fucking great. More regrets to add to my never-ending list: going to concerts and blasting my earbuds at the highest level.

There was already beige paint placed here for me, along with the brushes, the tape, and a mask for me to breathe. Although, I would rather huff paint fumes and hope I die from it.

Okay… time to get started. I dropped my bag on the ground.

I grabbed the flathead screwdriver left next to the other stuff to open the paint can, resulting in paint splashing on me. I sighed, but I couldn't be mad or yell. Why the fuck would I get mad at a little bit of paint? I grabbed the mask to cover my mouth and nose, pouring the beige color into the paint pail.

I'm already fucking tired.

I gripped the blue tape and pulled it, starting to cover the edges at the bottom.

This was already awful. My feet were dying, my bruises were painful, I couldn't see in one eye, and I felt like I was slowly losing my mind. But, I just kept using the tape, listening to the sound of the tape ripping.

I felt almost awkward knowing the family was upstairs. The mayor of Sherwood, who would absolutely kill me if he wasn't in political power, was upstairs. Actually, scratch that, I think he would kill me anyway. He seemed like he lied a lot, like any other politician and, I mean this is the rudest way possible, might use his power to get with ladies other than his own wife. I don't feel even a little bit bad about thinking that; the rich were a bunch of fuckwads who think they'll become poor from losing one dollar.

I finished the tape, wiping my forehead after. I used the long paint roller, so I could cover more wall.

Free labor. That's what this is. Even if I wasn't charged with anything, they would get someone to work on this for free anyway. I could smell the paint through my mask. It was some good paint, though, it was covering pretty good. It made me feel better, but I know they'll make me put six layers anyway.

I didn't even know we went into her room. I don't remember what any of these places look at. Seeing this is unreal, feels like a horror movie or a bad nightmare, and I can't believe Justin, Trevor, and I did this. We were high and drunk, though; it's amazing what you could do with shit like that in your system.

I finished one wall already and, although they were still showing through, it was progress. I was sweating and the bruise on my stomach was growing unbearable. But, sadly, I couldn't stop. I heard the door open at the top of the stairs. Fucker is gonna yell at me about how I'm not working "fast enough." I had to clench my teeth and bite down on my tongue. I heard whoever it was walking down. Making the quick decision, I decided on ignoring it, so he would at least be impressed I'm working at all.

I waited to hear a voice. Instead, I heard plastic was placed on the ground then, whoever it was, went back upstairs in a hurry. When I made it halfway on the next wall, I turned around, and there was a single water bottle next to my backpack.

I sighed, pulling my mask down. Gee, how nice of you.

I approached it, expecting it to be opened already and I could see it was poisoned or was gray like tap water, but it wasn't. It was normal—unopened, clear, and brand new. I lifted it and opened it, chugging it down. I didn't realize how thirsty I was; I avoided eating all day today too. I sighed after drinking, seeing I was already nearly done with it. I dropped it on the ground and went back to work, dipping the roller back into the pail again. The only realistic person I could think of to do that was... well, Amber. I didn't feel as much disbelief as I thought I was gonna feel with an idea like that.

In fact, I even smiled a little.

I shook my head out of that thought and painted on the wall again.

Just a couple more hours for me.


"—I'm heading to the office right now. I have some work to discuss my administrative officer." I heard Mayor Amber talking as I opened the door. I saw Amber sitting in the kitchen with him, holding a mug of something hot—there's steam coming out of it—in her hands, in plaid-patterned pajamas and her hair in a pony tail. Mayor Amber turned to me, his face becoming a scowl. "Finished already?"

"I would stay, but I'd rather sleep in my own dorm."

"Are you done completely?"

"No, I got one layer applied." I avoided her eyes at all costs. "I'll hitchhike a ride."

"Good work—"

"Wait, dad." She started speaking up, placing her mug down on the table. Her voice sounded better now, compared to earlier. "It's hella late and, I know you wouldn't truly care, but look, she's beaten up. She could stay somewhere here; we have enough rooms for her to use."

"Are you suggesting we let this hooligan stay in under our roof?!"

Why does this fucker always have to talk like that?

"Yes!" She raised her voice, leaning towards him. "I am! Then, we'll go to school together in the morning. Give her time to think over how she'll get here."

He sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He made it stupidly obvious that he wanted to say no to her. Though, seeing and hearing her persuasiveness was kinda nice. Did I really just think that? Fuck, I'm so tired.

"Okay." He stood up and went to me, looking directly into my eyes. "You will stay in that room and not come out. You'll be staying for one night and one night only. If I see anything out of place, I will add more fines to your name, understand?"

Again, there was an attempt to be intimidating. And again, I didn't have any energy to care. "Yes, sir."

"There's a room down the second hall at the end, separate from all of us."

I passed through the kitchen, towards the "second hall" he said. I took a split glance at Amber, not sure if she looked back or not. The hall had a whole long window to its right to the backyard, showing me it was dark outside. It was freaky, actually. Anyone could peer into this hallway, unless it was a one-way.

Thanks Amber… I guess you have a heart.

The room was so boring looking compared to the rest of the place. Just beige and white, except for the wooden floor. I shut the door and, luckily, there was a lock on the doorknob. Thankfully, I had my own bathroom. Dropping my bag on the floor again, I went into the bathroom to run the shower. Of course, the shower had to be the fanciest shit in the world, with an all glass shower and fancy, small brick, along with a marble sink. The mirror was long and somehow HD; It made me look more like shit. If I didn't care about what he said, if I still had the energy, I would break this fucking mirror too.

In the meantime, I texted my mom and Max about how I was staying in the house for the night. I wasn't expecting answers, so I tossed it on the bed and went into the shower.

It was hot water right away, but I switched it to cold, feeling goosebumps around me. It was relaxing to me after being stuck in a stuffy, hot room for hours. I just wanted the water, so it was a quick one. I wasn't sure how I was gonna go about pajamas. If I hadn't cleaned out my bag, the old, wrinkled pajamas would still be at the bottom. My bra and underwear will have to do for the night.

I lied down in bed, feeling cold and exhausted, holding my phone to check for messages.

Time Maxine:
How was your first day?

Me:
It was whatever. Just painting a wall for hours.

Me:
Stuck in the house for the night. Wish my luck.

Time Maxine:
Don't be so dramatic.

I tossed my phone aside again and exhaled. I couldn't sleep in this place. Not only am I gonna stay under this damn roof for a whole night, I have to be in the same car and dropped off at the same school in the morning. I feel like I'm gonna hurl again. The mix of the thought of her, the beer and weed withdrawal, and all of my injuries were making me sick. My injuries didn't hurt to the point I should've went to the hospital after being thrown out again; Motherfuckers didn't want me dead. This time, Amber wasn't a major reason for this sickness anymore. She was the smallest reason.

Am I less angry because of what I did to her? She could've ratted me out, easily, but she didn't. Based on her and her dad, she still hasn't said anything about it. Do I... wanna apologize? She's smart to keep distance... It made me hate the thought of approaching her first.

I heard a knock on the door.

Now what? "Never mind, get back to work"? I curled up slowly and limped to the door, ready to yell at whoever was on the other side. Before I could reach the door, I heard a sigh. Amber.

My heart was racing for some reason. I went up to the door and pressed my ear to it, wondering what she was gonna do. It felt like an eternity standing there, knowing it was only the door separating us.

Then, I heard her walking away. I never thought I would think this: I really wanted to open the door to talk to her. I wouldn't say anything worthwhile; my fat mouth would shit out anger before I could have a normal conversation. I was weighing what to do. Maybe it was because I was tired or still a little out of it, but I put my jumpsuit back on and went out, taking slow steps and sneaking my way over to the kitchen again. As I went on, I could hear her speaking and another voice talking back.

"Victoria fucking Chase, I'm not doing any more shit for you."

"Why are you so fucking uptight all of a sudden?!"

"Chloe Price is stuck in my house because of your stupid plan!"

"You make it sound like a bad thing! God, I'm willing to bet she'll off herself before her hours are up."

"Say that fucking shit again and I'll off you instead."

Holy shit... She's defending me. I pressed my back to the wall and peered over. Her back was turned to me, her arms crossed as one hand held her phone close to her face. I didn't need to see her face to know she was pissed.

"Come on, Rache." Victoria's tone changed. "You've been helping us with this for years and now you'll fucking bail?"

"It was fun in the beginning, Chase..."

I wasn't sure what emotion I was feeling. I think I was hurting, but... why? Damn, so she really is fake? Did I fall for it too? What the fuck is going on? So fucking stupid! How could

"I'm done using my body to get you shit."

That sentence shot through my body like electricity. It sent a cold shiver down my spine. It was eerie and it could mean anything, but a part of me knew what it meant. Did that mean...

"Rache—"

"No, no..." She exhaled, loud and full of stress. "I'm fucking done." Her voice was cracking and breaking, like she was on the verge of tears.

As I watched her set her phone down, I knew I had to leave. I rushed back to my room and closed the door as quickly, yet gently, as possible. I sighed and pressed my back to the door, sliding down it like I was stressed. Which, in a way, I was.

What the fuck is going on...?


A/N: Review and shit.