5. Under Pressure
1233 Words
Aria
I should’ve been happy.
I should’ve been packing my things, thinking about how I was finally getting out of this hellhole. I should’ve been excited…nervous maybe…but happy.
But instead, I was soaked from head to toe, standing in the middle of the hallway with water dripping down my face, my hoodie plastered to my skin, and the faint smell of dog food clinging to my hair.
All because Jordan thought it’d be funny.
“Damn, my bad,” he said, not sounding sorry at all, the empty bucket still in his hand. “Didn’t see you there, maid.”
I blinked, water streaming down from my lashes. I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My shoes were squelching against the floor, and my arms were still stiff from scrubbing the bathroom tiles for the last two hours. My hoodie clung to me like wet paper, sticking to my skin, dragging me down. I was shivering already.
Jordan grinned wide, tossing the bucket aside with a loud clatter. “You really should be more careful where you stand.”
“I was cleaning the floor,” I said quietly, my voice was a little higher than the sound of Bruno barking in the living room. The stupid dog acted like he’d just discovered a new toy. He barked louder, tail wagging as he ran in circles, knocking into me like I was part of his game.
Jordan shrugged. “Well now you’re cleaning the floor and yourself. Multitasking, right?”
Maddie’s heels clicked behind me. I knew that sound. The slow, dramatic walk she did when she was about to say something cruel.
“Oh. My. God.” Her voice was sharp, amused. “Did she pee herself or what?”
Laughter. Hers. Jordan’s.
I didn’t say anything. I just wiped at my face with the hem of my hoodie, which made it worse. Now I just smelled like wet dog and whatever chemical cleaner they made me use.
“Ugh, seriously,” Maddie went on, pinching her nose. “You look like you just crawled out of a gutter. Are you trying to catch pneumonia so you can get out of chores?”
“No,” I muttered.
“What was that?” Maddie leaned closer, her perfume hitting me straight in the face. Something expensive. Probably the kind I wasn’t even allowed to touch.
“I said no,” I repeated.
She snorted. “You look disgusting. I wouldn’t even let Bruno touch you right now.”
Bruno barked louder, as if he agreed. He lunged toward me and knocked into my legs again. I stumbled back a little, arms swinging out to balance myself. The cold water had seeped into everything. My jeans were clinging to my thighs, and my toes had gone numb.
And then Mrs. Blackstone walked in.
Perfect timing.
She took one look at me and scoffed. “What now?”
“She got in the way,” Jordan said quickly, slipping into his sweet-boy voice. “I was just trying to rinse out the mop bucket and she walked straight into it.”
“Honestly,” Mrs. Blackstone snapped, stepping past me like I was furniture, “can you go one day without making things harder for everyone else?”
“I was just cleaning the...”
“Don’t backtalk me!” Her eyes flashed, her lipstick too bright, too red. “You walk around this house like someone owes you something. We took you in, gave you a roof, and this is how you thank us? By whining and getting in the way?”
“I wasn’t whining,” I said, quietly. “I was just...”
“Do you want me to slap that mouth off your face?”
I stopped talking.
Jordan leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, smirking. Maddie took out her phone and started filming like it was some kind of show. Bruno kept barking in the background, chasing his tail.
I felt like I was going to break. Not cry. Not yell. Just... break. Right there in the hallway.
Mrs. Blackstone kept going. “You’re not even trying anymore. Look at this mess!” She pointed to the puddle I was standing in, as if I’d poured the water on myself just to ruin her day. “Mop this up before someone slips.”
“After that,” Maddie added, grinning, “she should probably wash her hair. Or shave it off. It looks like a soggy rat’s nest.”
Jordan laughed, clapping like she’d just won a comedy award. “Ten out of ten. Wouldn’t pet.”
I felt it in my throat first…the tightness. Like someone had shoved a fist right under my ribs and pushed. My eyes burned, but I wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not in front of them.
“You’re not done with the laundry either,” Mrs. Blackstone added, turning back around like she remembered something else she wanted to throw at me. “And I want the porch swept. Properly this time. I saw leaves out there this morning. You think I want the neighbors thinking we’re dirty?”
“I don’t feel well,” I whispered.
She narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”
“I said I don’t feel…”
“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes, throwing her hands in the air. “You don’t feel well? Are we supposed to stop everything because the omega’s tired? What next, you want a day off? You want to lie in bed like you’re royalty?”
“She probably wants a robe and grapes too,” Maddie added, biting her lip like she was trying not to laugh.
Jordan shook his head, grabbing the mop from the corner. “Here,” he said, tossing it toward me.
It slapped against my already soaked jeans and slid to the floor. I stared at it.
“Clean it up,” he said, voice lower now. Mocking. “That’s your job, isn’t it? Unless you want Bruno to do it.”
Bruno barked again and lunged forward, licking the side of my jeans. I flinched.
I wanted to run.
I wanted to run far, far away. Find a hole. A tree. A mountain. Somewhere no one could find me. Somewhere I could cry without anyone seeing.
But I didn’t.
I bent down, picked up the mop, and started cleaning. My arms felt like dead weight. My head was pounding. Every push of the mop made my knees ache. The water squelched beneath it, and the smell of bleach burned my nose.
Mrs. Blackstone’s heels clicked away. Maddie walked off humming some stupid song. Jordan tossed a towel at my face on his way upstairs, but it missed and landed in the puddle.
I stayed there, kneeling. Cold. Wet. Humiliated.
Still mopping.
Still pretending it didn’t hurt.
Still pretending I wasn’t dying inside.
And that was when it happened.
A knock.
Firm. Loud. Echoing through the house like a warning.
Everyone paused.
Maddie turned her head from the kitchen. Jordan stopped halfway up the stairs.
Another knock. This time harder.
Mrs. Blackstone frowned from the hallway. “Who the hell is that?”
I slowly looked up, heart thudding, hair dripping, mop still in hand.
The knock came again.
And something deep in my gut told me…
This wasn’t just anyone.
This was the moment everything changed.
- Writer
