【 reseda, 2017 】

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

━━ Stevie was a pretty girl. 

She may not have been everyone's type, but she knew she was pretty. She could force a sparkle in her eyes in a way she hadn't been able to naturally achieve since she was a child. She had a charming smile, though she had abandoned the blinding one that was once so beloved, as well as a laugh that only twinkled in distant dreams. 

So it was funny that she knew ugly as intimately as she did.

The scars that marred her skin and the chain around her wrist were only physical reminders of just how ugly she really was, and somehow, they weren't enough.

Stevie didn't remember much about her life before the Red Room. Sometimes, she wasn't entirely sure that she ever did have a life before then, despite the dreamy images of a brown skinned girl with a giant flower tucked behind her ear, who was happy. 

She had her ugly moments as a kid, she was sure of it. She was stubborn and craved adventure: that had never died.

But in the Red Room? 

She became hateful and full of fiery rage with the patience of God herself ( not that she actually believed in that shit ). She had gained a thirst for blood. The act of committing murder was no more difficult than the act of breathing. 

For men like Dreykov, that wasn't enough. He thought she could do better. In his opinion, better consisted of pulling information from people. If it meant she had to sleep with them, so be it. If that didn't work, Dreykov expected her to rip their targets apart until they offered up their own children in their stead. 

And she wasn't considered the best of her class by saying no.

Ugly was ingrained into her.

It was no longer stupid, little temper tantrums. It was despicable behavior: she was predatory and cruel and merciless. The saddest part is that she believed that she was always destined to end up this way. Whether she had been taken and suffered through the psychological conditioning and chemical subjugation or not, she was always going to end up this way.

Alone.

Mean.

Dangerous.

She thought, in every universe, she was always going to be the monster that was entirely capable of killing a little kid with hardly a shred of guilt.

Perhaps the life she was living as Stevie was karma for the life she lived as Svetlana: the shitty apartment, the shitty job, and the lack of necessities. Soggy leftovers she stole from the club, sleep that was impossible to attain, even her water was shit. 

Why wouldn't she deserve this?

Stevie's fingers were gripping the roots of hair after she kicked the refrigerator door shut before she roughly ran them through her tangles. To fight the urge to throw yet another broken water filter at the wall, she kept her fingers busy by creating the ugliest french braid she had done since she was single digits.

She figured it was time to make the rare dip into her savings and head over to the bodega to buy another water filter. ( If there was one thing she was thankful for, it was that her contacts covered her rent through the rest of the year. It left her with a relatively nice account──at least the type that kept you from being homeless. )

Stevie changed out of the promiscuous uniform she fell asleep in, and put on some more traditional workout attire. She grabbed the trusty little flip phone she was provided with and the apartment keys from the kitchen counter and headed out.

The bodega wasn't a long walk, but she needed to not think, particularly after the sleep she just had. So ... a run it was. Despite it being one of the circuits she was not as successful at, it had been one of the only mindless activities she was able to do in the Red Room. She constantly needed eyes in the back of her head, especially when she was as despised by her class as she was. She always had to focus during the daily sparring sessions, unsure if that day was going to be a day with one less girl, or if she could eat her dinner without being poisoned.

Running helped clear Stevie's mind up until the moment that her mind didn't belong to her anymore.

It had been the first thing she had done when she was freed from the clutches of Dreykov. Stevie had taken the Avenger's advice to heart, and she ran as far as she fucking could. She ran all the way to the City of Angels that was filled with hidden devils; though none had the spirit of one moreso than herself.

The run didn't last much longer as she arrived at the parking lot. Despite the walking pace, her fingers felt twitchy once she came across the cherry red Pontiac Firebird that she knew belonged to Johnny fucking Lawrence.

She wondered how he would react to a rock going through his window.

God, the thought was amusing, but she decided against it. She was satisfied with making a dent in the bumper with a kick before making her entrance into the bodega.

"-mente tiene un pene pequeña." ( -ly has a tiny dick. )

What the hell did she just walk into?

Her eyes widened slightly before shaking her head, and walking to grab a new water filter. She tried to not let her gaze linger at the variety of snacks they had at the front before she dropped her sole item on the counter. Johnny had left, and now, it was just the cashier, the new kid, and herself.

Now, Stevie was no fool. She was well aware of the way the boy tensed up once she stood next to him. It was almost cute.

Miguel thought she was pretty. And so, before he even realized what he was doing, he blurted out a compliment.

"I think your hair looks badass. That dude doesn't know what he's talking about."

Well, that was ... dare she say, sweet. 

Did she care? No, but that was still nice of him to say. So she gave him a forced smile as thanks and faced forward again. However, social cues didn't appear to be his strong suit as he kept talking.

"I'm Miguel, by the way. We just moved in next door to you guys."

Stevie didn't respond, and suddenly, he wasn't so sure if she was aware of his presence from that morning. Because he could've sworn they made eye contact, but now she's looking at him like he's crazy, and, oh God, he's a creep.

"Shit, I am so sorry. I swear I'm not stalking you or anything, I just saw you walking past me this morning to your apartment and, great! Now I'm rambling─"

Her jaw clicked out of annoyance, because goddamn! 

Did this dude not know when to stop himself? 

Nestor kept glancing at her, almost begging her to spare Miguel the embarrassment because it was getting a little pathetic. Stevie shut her eyes, not having shut down a teenage boy's musings on her schedule tonight.

"I know. I saw you trying to talk to that jackass by the dumpster..." She tried to leave it at that, but Nestor raised an eyebrow. If she didn't know any better, she would've thought he was trying to force Stevie to make a friend. Had he not been such a help with her in the beginning of the year, she would have made sure she was a problem for him.

Nonetheless, she glared at the shopkeeper before sighing, "I'm Stevie."

Her forced smile turned into nothing more than bared teeth, aimed exclusively at Nestor, but Miguel turned into the sun with his smile. She had to admit, it was kind of stunning to look at. It was also from the simple knowledge of her name, and that was completely and utterly terrifying. Honestly, she had never been so happy Nestor paid attention to her, since he coughed pointedly at Miguel while handing him his bag. 

Stevie had not been subtle about her impatience towards him. She dragged her filter across the counter, pushing Miguel out of his spot. However, he lamely stood by her as if he wanted to keep talking. But the bell rang once more, showing four boys hollering in the store.

Four boys who appeared to live for pissing Stevie off.

Every time Kyler Park has crossed Stevie's path, she becomes further convinced that he was sent by some spiteful, possibly karmic other being as an attempt to get her arrested. He was an entitled, loudmouthed dickface, who loved shouting about his stupid wrestling matches. ( It was a miracle his fake ID hasn't been thrown in the garbage at this point. )

They only got lucky at this bodega because Nestor was more interested in their Encino Hills kind of cash than actually doing anything about it ( as proven by the numerous bottles he had given Stevie, who really didn't care about doing anything ).

Poor, poor Miguel had failed to get the memo. He had been more interested in breaking the "loner new kid" stereotype.

"Hey, I heard you guys outside. Congrats on winning the match!" Miguel told the leader of the pack before pointing out his shorts, "You go to West Valley High? I'm starting there this year too."

Well, shit.

Stevie raised her eyebrows, just in the slightest as Nestor looked absolutely scandalized. ( He was a hell of an actor, maybe he could give Oksana a run for her money. ) He pretended he was horrified that they were in high school, and told them off for trying to partake in underage drinking.

As soon as the resident bullies took one look at the boy who opened his mouth, Nestor muttered a Hail Mary as he and Stevie watched them shove Miguel outside ( who was now starting to realize just how badly he had fucked up ). 

Did she feel for him? Sure.

Was she going to do anything? Hell no. 

The reality is Miguel wasn't her problem. Her problem was the broken water filter in her apartment, and she wanted to get that fixed. So she wasn't going to get involved.

▄ ▄ ▄

━━ Okay, so she lied a little about not getting involved.

So what?

It wasn't her fault. 

She didn't even really start anything. 

( Sure thing, little miss ❝ get your bony bitch fingers off of me ❞. She probably "accidentally" shoved Kyler and them into Johnny's car too. )

She just finished it. 

( Those little shits were groaning in pain on the ground, Johnny was arrested again──using tae kwon do, according to Miguel──and she was about four hundred dollars richer. She even sweet talked her way into a couple bottles of vodka from Nestor. What can she say? Those Encino jackasses made this shit too easy for her. )

She was being so nice, she even offered to walk Miguel home, in case he decided to get jumped again. 

( She just felt bad about the deep cut on his head he got for shoving one of the creeps off of her, and all she gave him was a thumbs up as she pickpocketed them. Definitely not because she thought he was sort of cute. She just didn't want to owe him anything. That's all. )

However, despite how ❛ not cute ❜ she found him, Stevie quickly realized that Miguel was not her favorite conversationalist for a couple of reasons. ( Was it frustrating, watching him nearly drop her bottles of vodka ... twice? Yes. Was it even more irritating, listening to him being so far up Johnny Lawrence's ass? Obviously. )

However, the main reason was that he liked talking and she ... well, she didn't. 

Did it stop him? No. 

For him, it was bad enough that the prettiest ( and scariest ) girl he had ever seen watched him get his ass beat. He needed to not give her a reason to think that he was even lamer than he already was.

Miguel walked close enough to Stevie where he could brush his hand against hers, but far enough to where it could be considered an accident. 

Stevie was aware, but she knew when to pick her battles and this was not one. So she let him "accidentally" graze his fingers against her wrist and crinkled her nose at the sickly scent of menthol as he wore Pepto like a prepubescent boy wearing cologne for the first time.

He would not stop talking, so Stevie had to interrupt him as the bottles almost slipped again, "Diaz?"

He looked at her with a furrow in his brows, "Did I tell you my la─"

"If you break a bottle, I will knock your teeth down your throat."

He paused at the minor threat and nodded his head to gulp the lump in throat down, "Yep."

Within ten seconds of the exchange ending, Miguel had tripped. One of the bottles had slipped from his hand ( again ), and the only reason it hadn't been broken was thanks to Stevie's abnormally quick reflexes. She caught it in her hand before it could drop past her thighs, and poor Miguel looked like he was about to shit himself.

Before she could say or do anything, he burst out with mumbling at the speed of lightning. He was complimenting her cat-like reflexes as he leaned over to grab the bottle from her hand, and once he straightened up, he was apologizing for his lack of coordination.

And if there was anything that would cause her to deliver a lifetime's worth of fury on his face, it would be his incessant apologies, "Just stop apologizing!"

"Sorry," he told her once more before his eyes widened at the apology that spilled from his lips ( again ), "Shit! My bad!"

━━ i'm doing this in the middle of a human sexuality class. it's basically a college level sex ed class. yay no abstinence talk!