BitterSweet - 1

Chappie 4

I sat in the car and tried to tune out the raised voices,

"I'm not happy with it Tommy!" My mum was shouting. Outside rain lashed down heavily, thunder clapped and lightening flashed. We were driving on a narrow bumpy road. My dad's face was red as he turned to face her,

"I don't give a toss Jenna, it's finale and that's the end of it" He didn't see the deer standing with eyes of fear in the middle of the road until the last second. They say if you see an animal on a road you're suppose to hit it, not swerve.

Dad swerved... just as I woke up.

The covers draped around me were made of heavy cotton and not the black silk covers from my bed. Why did this bed smell of Clay. I remembered the party in a flash. I was in Clay's bed! I closed my eyes and buried my face in his pillow. I am never ever getting out of this bed. It's like his arms are wrapped around me keeping me warm. I pulled the covers over my head and breathed in his heavy scent,

"Erm Scarlett? What are you doing?" I heard Clay walk into his room. Oh god he had heard me heavy breathing his smell under the covers. My cheeks flushed,

"I thought I could smell...." What did you smell under covers for? Oh nothing hot sexy older guy I was just breathing in you Shut up brain,

"Why am I in your bed?" I asked peeking my eyes above the covers and staring at his sinking green eyes. He turned away looking awkward, "What is it?" I pushed,

"Here." He handed me a plain white dressing gown which defiantly wasn't mine. He looked away as I put it on. Jee, I was only in my bikini, he didn't have to look away, unless he thought if he looked at me he wouldn't be able to hold back from my sexy temptation, yeah right, I wish.

"Some people got into your room last night..." He spoke softly as we walked to my door. People had got into my room? What had they stolen something? If that was what he was worried about I could probably buy another...

He opened my door and I stared at it and I stared a bit more, and some more,

"But..." I blinked around. It was my room but it wasn't. My clothes were shredded to bits and littered all over the floor, every last thing inside my walk in wardrobe was ruined. My high heel shoes were snapped, my hand bags were in pieces. The shelf of books was broke off the wall, and all the pages had been torn apart. My silky bed sheets had huge gaping holes. On the bed there was a used condom covered in feathers from my ripped open pillows. I stared at the broken mirror ball which no longer hung on my ceiling.

Everything in the room was ruined. I saw my iPod, laptop and blackberry phone all with smashed screens. Even the curtain had been torn down. Along the walls in brown slush someone had wrote;

You f*****g slaggy rich b***h now you have s**t all.

Under it in a red spray can;

Watch your back b***h.

On the floor my new sunglasses were broke into tiny bits. I bent down and picked it up. These were my fav glasses in the world. Limited edition.

Tears started to form in my eyes. Why would someone do this to me? Mainly everything in the room could be replaced but not all of it. I stared at my photo album which had been shredded to bits. Those were the only photos I had.

I had to get out of here before my tears overwhelmed me. I turned and pushed Clay away as I ran out the door,

"Scarlett wait!" He shouted but I couldn't. What did I do to deserve this? All my favourite shoes broke. Everything I had loved was trashed. I pushed away the fear from the threats,

Watch your back bitch

I didn't know where I was running till I pushed open a random door and walked in...oh.

Of course I had ran here. I'd always ran here when I was younger, if I was upset. The smell of paint and dust filled the air. The room was small with a huge window as a wall. Sun light gleamed through and shone on every surface. A wooden table with paint brushes and sketch books sat in the corner of the room. It was an art studio, not just any studio, my mum's. I closed my eyes, letting the sun kiss my face and breathed in the smell of art.

The door creaked open and the smell of smooth aftershave mixed with the paint air. I didn't move, well he probably thought I was a weirdo for crying over things which could be replaced,

"Are these yours?" I looked up and saw him staring at the canvas of paintings which hung on the normal white walls. They were painting of everything; the beach, a forest, my dad, me and one of our old dog,

"They were...they're my mum's," I muttered,

"There really good," He studied them and looked at me. His green eyes filled with sadness and something else? What was he thinking...

"The servants are cleaning up your room." He said. I nodded. A silence filled the air but it wasn't awkward, it was, well I didn't know what it was. I'm so use to trying to fill silences that I never knew they could be just as strong as talking. I sat down on the cool tiles and stared out the window. Clay surprised me by joining me,

"What was she like?" He asked,

"Who?"

"Your mum."

I jumped and tried to hide my shock. How did he know she was dea...

"What did my dad say?" I hissed. He frowned,

"He didn't say anything I just knew," I watched a bird fly up in the morning pink sky as I thought,

"She, she was, just special, real special." I mumbled. I had never spoke to anyone about her since it had happened, not even my dad. Tears formed in my eyes. How had Clay known about my mum? He said he could he just tell which meant...

"Do you miss them?" I asked,

"Who?" He frowned staring at me,

"Whoever you lost..." I was afraid I had stepped over a line for a minute but he sighed,

"Everyday." He muttered. Clay looked at me his green eyes burning into mine with sadness, and then something changed. His eyes ran down to the white dressing gown which was too big for me. It was halfway open revealing my bikini body. He stared at the bare skin which could be seen, his eyes were filled with longing? Oh my god, my cheeks were burning as he lifted his eyes back up. Clay wasn't a boy, he was a man. A hot, sexy, six years older than me, man and he was checking me out? No he wasn't Scarlett, he's just looking at you. He just feels sorry for you. I stared into his forest eyes in a bated silence. He gazed at my hair at first I thought there was something wrong. I hadn't brushed it yet, but then his hand moved slowly up, and gently took a lock of my black hair between his fingers.

I held my breath as he curled it around his finger. His eyes were filled with sorrow...

He has no pictures or photos on his walls.

I wondered if Clay was lonely?

"You're all alone aren't you?" I whispered. His eyes met mine and I knew I was right. I wanted to kiss him. Well I always wanted to kiss him but I really, really wanted to feel him. Feel something apart from this soul clenching pain. It was like he heard my thoughts. Clay stood up quickly and the moment was gone. Every thought I'd had of him seeing me more than just a shallow rich kid faded,

"Come on, lets see if the servant have any spare clothes for you." He was breathing heavy as he stepped out the room...

*****

*****

"I can not wear this!" I shouted from inside one of the many rooms in the villa. We had found some clothes. If that's what you could call them. I was wearing a huge white plain t-shirt (which was Clay's but didn't smell of him because it was new,) and some grey tracksuit baggy bottoms, which I had to keep up with a drawstring belt. He'd found me some things to wear on my feet as well. I think they were called pumps. I looked like a beggar with cool hair,

"It's only for a day Scarlett." Clay said from the other side of the door. I sighed. Luckily there had been spare underwear in the drying room but no clothes at all. Apart from my black dress which was dirty. How did people even wear these types of clothes? Argh!

"My bottoms keep falling down." I moaned as I stepped out of the room. Clay looked confused,

"What?" I asked,

"Did you say your bottom is falling down?" He, I swear on my on my ugly pumps that he almost smiled then,

"Isn't there anything else? I look horrible."

"You look..." A long pause, "you don't look horrible." He muttered. I hate my cheeks, why did they have to turn red? Why can't I have normal cheeks? We stepped into the kitchen,

"Where are all the servants?" I asked,

"Cleaning your room."

"All of them?"

"You have a big room."

Oh, so I would have to make my own food. I couldn't cook very well. Last time I had burned down half the kitchen but, there was one thing I could cook though,

"I'm making cookies" I smiled.