I decided to continue with this story! Whoo-hoo! Yeah, okay...uhh..enjoy this next chapter! Again, please excuse some minor mistakes there might be (though I'm pretty sure there shouldn't be any)
Disclaimer: I still do not own Rocky Horror, and I never will. :(


Chapter Two

Columbia lay wide-awake in her small bed, her eyes still puffy from crying. The laughter of Frank and Eddie drifted into the bedroom, and it took all of Columbia's might to stop herself from screaming. She concentrated on the soft breathing of the frizzy haired domestic, Magenta.

Earlier, around midnight shortly after Frank had arrived with the stranger, Columbia had retreated to the room she shared with Magenta. Magenta entered soon after, took one look at Columbia, said nothing, and continued to prepare herself for bed. Columbia choked back sobs, trying to take deep breaths to calm herself down. Nothing worked. She couldn't bear the thought of Frank choosing a fat, greasy-haired biker boy over her. Columbia cried herself to sleep that night.


As hard as she tried the next day, it was obvious that Columbia was falling apart. She applied her makeup unevenly, wore mismatching shoes with different size heels, and her dress was on backwards. She obviously did not care.

The messy-haired redhead sat at the large dining table, poking at eggs with a fork. She rested her chin in the palm of her hand, her elbow propped up on the table next to her plate. She continued to play with her food, pushing the thick orange-yellow yolk around the plate and watching it flood back into place. After hours of isolation, the doors to the dining room finally burst open.

"Will you stop the miserable sulking and clean yourself up?" an annoyed voice exclaimed. Columbia knew the voice instantly—Frank.

The sexy transvestite sashayed over to where she sat and stood next to her, hands delicately placed on his hips, left foot tapping impatiently. Columbia sighed and ignored him.

"Don't ignore me!" Frank shouted, grabbing Columbia's wrist and yanking her from her seat. He practically dragged her out of the room and into the large ballroom. Columbia winced in pain.

"Now—listen to me Columbia. I am tired of this pity-party you are throwing for yourself. Stop moping around and enjoy yourself!" Frank ordered before stomping off in his rhinestone pumps.

Instead of obeying his exact orders, Columbia just stood there. Eventually—probably due to the uneven heels—her knees buckled beneath her and she collapsed on the ground. Magenta, who occupied the room dusting the statues, ran to her side, her own boot heels clicking on the marble ground. Columbia let all her limbs go limp, not willing to even attempt to move. Magenta had to drag the drooping body to the bathroom with no help at all.

Magenta propped Columbia up against the wall near the bathtub and started to run the water. Columbia stared lifelessly into the corner. She barely noticed or protested when Magenta stripped her of her shoes, tights, and dress. She did, however, let Magenta assist her into a tubful of warm water. She continued to stay silent as Magenta washed the poor cosmetic job off Columbia's face.

"Why did Frankie do this to me?" Columbia squeaked after a while.

"He is a man. It's vhat they do," Magenta grumbled, scrubbing shampoo into Columbia's ratty hair.

"But he always seemed so happy with me. How the hell is he supposed to have sex with that fat lard?"

"I do not think he'll have any intercourse vith zis Eddie person. If Eddie ever got on top, he'd suffocate Frank before anyzing vould happen," Magenta commented, a smile creeping across her lips.

Columbia burst out laughing at the thought of Frank struggling to breath underneath the weight of Eddie. It was the first time she laughed since Frank brought the intruder home. Magenta laughed with her.

Magenta continued to wash off Columbia, but left when the time came for Columbia to dry off. Columbia thanked her friend, only to get a mumble as a response. Columbia just hoped that Magenta knew how much she appreciated the help.