He let me have a shower at his place.

As I step on to the cool marble looking flooring of his bathroom I marvel at just how much money he seems to have. For a guy seemingly living alone, the place is exceptionally well kept, except for perhaps his actual bedroom. That room is as messy as a typical teenage boy's room.

Maybe he gets all the money from absent but rich parents? It could also be from his boxing scheme, apparently he's quite the legend.

I don't particularly understand the craze behind it, but the cash seems to be good, so why not? Also I think it's illegal, like an underground system. Add that to the list as another thing the police here can't stop.

I turn on the shower and as the steam rises, so do my thoughts.

First of all, how did I end up getting into this guy's house?

Second of all, do I like the fact that he's sticking up for me, or is it unwanted attention?

Third of all, are you an ungrateful bitch or just plain stupid for asking that?

I sigh, fair enough.

However, my motto for this year was 'keep your head down and don't get into shit,' and with this boy is the opposite of subtle.

I mean, I could just avoid him, right? Thank him for my services and disappear?

Seems simple enough, but with a guy like Ethan Stone, I have no idea how that's going to work out for me. So essentially, this is going to become quite cumbersome.

When I say cumbersome I mean a landslide blocking the path in front of me. The path being my pre-decided motto of keeping my head down and staying low till I graduate and leave.

This place has nothing for me, and I want nothing to do with it.

I sigh for the umpteenth time today. First week of the school year and I'm already exhausted. God I hate this place.

I run my hands through my dark-brown-almost- black hair, massaging my scalp while I'm at it.

I reach for his shampoo and start lathering my hair up. My thoughts go back to Ryan and his vengeful, vengeful eyes.

And then everything hits me full force, like a dam breaking. I begin shaking as tears pool at my eyes and down my cheeks, mixing with the hot shower water. I'm full on crying in no time, trying to tell myself it'll be fine. That I can handle the bullies at school and the troubles at home, because they don't scare me anymore. They're- as nasty as it sounds- everyday occurrences. If I cry it's out of anger that murder is a felony, and because my life sucks.

But clearly they affect you more than you seem to let on. Clearly they're fucking with your head, because you're weak.

My hands are clawing through my hair as the sobs rack my body while I fall to the shower floor, knocking down a bunch of bottles as I go. However, apart from that there are no noises from me. When you go through as much shit as I do, you know to cry in the shower, quietly, and walk out as if nothing ever happened. Then no one can use that against you.

Because then they'll know how weak you really are.

The panic attack rips through me, as I continue to shake on the floor, while the rain shower washes my sweat away. My vision goes blurry and dotted as I slip in and out of consciousness. My hands grab at my throat, trying free myself from the invisible noose strangling me. My whole body convulses, and I let out a whimper as my inability to breathe has me drawing raspy breaths.

A knock resonating against the locked door snaps me out of my state, "Is everything ok in there?"

I inhale deeply, trying to steady myself before answering. My throat is still so sore and I try saying 'yes' but it comes out hoarse and shaky.

"Ashley?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I respond almost instantaneously out of reflex. But I'm sure he knows that I'm most certainly not fine, thanks to my treacherous voice.

There's some silence on the other side of the door, and after a moment's pause, he responds, "Okay, call if you need anything."

I groan as I completely lie down in this abnormally huge shower, the rain shower on my stomach.

What is my life coming to.

Also who knew that the bad boy could be a good host. Or is he just used to having girls over?

I finally decide to roll over and pull myself up, I don't want to make myself too comfortable here. I finish my shower and step out onto the soft white mat, grabbing a clean towel Ethan gave from the heating rack. After wrapping myself in the big warm one, I grab the smaller one and wrap my hair into a turban.

I wipe the steam off the mirror and inspect the damage. I immediately cringe, I look haggard and my eyes are bloodshot from crying, with near to black irises staring back at me. I stare at myself, taking everything in again. My normally milk-chocolate-brown skin looks paler than usual, and my hair which normally forms tight curls now looks frizzy and dry.

I look exhausted.

I sigh once again. I turn around to get my bag with stuff in it, and realise that I left it outside in my desperation to get under the shower.

Fixing my towels, I step out and see my bag next to Ethan's bed, where he must have put it. I move to grab it and just as my hand touches it, my phone goes off. I rummage through my bag to find it and when I do, ringtone blaring loud and clear, I grimace at the caller ID.

Tentatively, with shaky fingers and a foreboding feeling, I accept the call, putting it on loud speaker so I can get my shit together while my mother talks.

"Ashley for fuck's sake where are you? This whole place is a mess and Tony's getting angry looking for you instead of being with his friends."

There it is. Now you know, I'm the maid of my own house, that way no one has to be paid. I shudder as I register the fact that Tony has his friends over, they aren't good news. Especially for me, the young, weak, "innocent" child of their mate's girlfriend. They all want to exploit that.

I always lock and blockade my room doors now.

Angry tears come to my eyes, I don't want to go home. Home is the last place I want to be, and the last place anyone should be.

I sniffle, and wipe my nose. I steel myself, drawing in a shaky breath, "I'm not coming home today, I'm staying at a friend's."

An inexplicably tense silence arose, settling like a plastic bag over my head, stopping my breathing. After the elongated pause, she begins speaking, her voice low, slow, and ever so menacing,"You lazy bitch, are you trying to run away from your responsibilities? Just wait till you get back home. You'll have to come back, eventually. Tony! Tony she's on the phone, she's not coming home."

My trembling hands let my phone drop to the bed, while I stand there, staring down at it, grabbing fistfuls of my towel. I try to put up that strong face I show everyone, hoping I'll come off as confident to him.

There's some shuffling in the back and some muffled voices before the dreaded voice speaks, "Ashley, your mother told me you're not coming home today. You better get home right now. I don't like the way you're disobeying us."

Knees shaking, I sit on the edge of the bed, trying to steady myself. This guy's talking smack, chastising me like I'm and infant, why am I getting so scared?

"t-t-Tony I'm not disobeying anyone I've just got some work and stuff to sort out."

"Yeah, just you wait till you get back, and we'll sort things out."

I start getting angry, "Tony-"

"Just wait, young lady."

"But jus-" if I can handle all the things people say to me at school, why is this driving me over the edge? All these threats sound like cheesy lines from a bad horror movie, why are they affecting me?

"That's enough from you now, we'll deal with you when you get back home."

"You're not my dad, Tony, just leave me alone!"

The regret was instantaneous as I heard the threat in his voice, "Just you wait, Ashley."

Shit. And there I went and did myself in, fully well knowing what the consequences of this conversation would be: I hang up with no further words- what was even there to be said? I then stand, finally looking up, bag in hand, to see angry blue-green eyes watching me.

Why, hello there Ethan.

•

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