Mr. Hollingsworth.

Ch. 8 Cleaning.

I sat there for a few minutes after he left, staring at the door like an idiot. Even though my head was pounding, I really didn't want him to take me shopping, and I knew he would carry that threat through. So I stumbled into the first room I saw, it was a guest room. When I walked into the third room I knew it was his. It was at the end of the hallway, and then a gasp was ripped from my lips. It was huge, with a high arched ceiling, a beautiful canopy bed, clothes littered here and there. The floors were mahogany, his counter tops in his bathroom were granite, and marble, and I was in love. In love with this bedroom.

"I really want to be rich." I murmued, rubbing my temples like that would take away my lightheadedness from walking. After a few seconds of standing there, I just grabbed the baggiest grey t-shirt I could find, which I found in his bathroom. It felt like I was invading his privacy, but I looked around his bathroom. It was something out of heaven, maybe a little dirty, but beautiful. Staring at his shower, I grew really, really tempted, and finally decided if I were to be staying here I'd need to take a shower eventually, so I locked the door, just in case, and started to take a shower. I used his shampoo, hoping he wouldn't mind, then I changed into his t-shirt. I was twice as lightheaded as before but I was also twice as happy.

I loved the shower. Mine only had cold water. Taking a warm shower was the best sensation ever. Quickly I changed into the t-shirt. It didn't even cover most of my upper thighs like I'd hoped but I guessed it covered enough. I really hoped he wouldn't mind. I felt really guilty as I stepped out, then I realized what I could do to repay him. Clean. He really kept it clean, but I was a perfectionist when it came to cleaning. So I started by taking three asprins, and putting a heating pad on my forehead, then I started.

It made me really feverish, but I couldn't sit there and be useless all day. That's why my father always got upset with me when he left me home sick, because I'd always do something to help. Once he came home from work, and I had the flu, really bad. I could stand up for more than five minutes, but when he got home the front yard was mowed, the weeds were plucked from the garden, the house was clean, and I was passed out on the floor. Ever since that day he'd stay home when I stayed home so I didn't over work myself. I sighed as I thought about my father, but kept cleaning.

I even cleaned his room, and then I stumbled into the living room. "Damn it." I snapped, I hadn't dusted the tops of his cabinets. He had a duster but it was short because he was really tall. I cursed then my blurry vision wandered and I saw my high heels. This probably wasn't a good idea because I could hardly walk in a straight line from all the work I just put myself through but I didn't care. With effort I slipped on my heels, which were basically stilettos, and stumbled into the kitchen. Nearly snapping my neck a couple times.

Then I pulled the duster from the pantry, and started dusting the cabinets. After that the aspirin wore off, I placed the duster back, feeling like my head might implode, but I was restless, so I grabbed a book from his book shelf, and laid on the couch, and started reading. It was on scientific theories. I've always really liked science, I wanted to major in science when I was in college, but I had to drop out because of... an unlucky situation.

Slowly I immersed myself into the book, and blocked out my emotions, and the world.

Thank god.