He woke the next morning feeling tired and with a horrible headache from puking up the contents of his stomach the night before. He'd had to wait, so it had taken longer to get it all up. Looking down at his stomach, though, he was pleased to see it still looked mostly flat. An hour or so of running and some extra sit-ups that day would get rid of all the excess fat. Then he'd be lean again.
"Hey, it's breakfast time," that girl, Amber, leaned into his room. Clayton gave her an annoyed scowl.
"Have you never heard of knocking?" he snapped. "I could have been changing." She blushed slightly. Virgin, he thought. Definitely a virgin. That was kind of... cute in a way. But an extremely depressed virgin. So it wasn't like he could screw her anyway. If he could even muster up the enthusiasm, which he hadn't been able to do in a while. Wrestling and managing his weight already took up too much energy.
"Sorry," she snapped back. "I figured you'd be asleep. Everyone else was." He pushed the covers away from his waist and got out of the bed. Amber's mouth dropped slightly. Clayton looked down at his naked body. He knew he was impressive, but damn, she was a bit too impressed. He leaned over to the desk where his boxers sat and pulled them on.
"Haven't you ever, like, had a boyfriend?" he asked in a rude tone. Her mouth snapped closed and the look of shock turned to one of vulnerable hurt. Jesus, he thought. She's one of those. Cries at he very mention of the life she had to leave behind. He'd had to leave a lot behind as well. They all had. She needed to just suck it up and get over it.
"Yes, I have," she said in what she tried to make a fierce voice. Clayton raised an eyebrow.
"How old are you?" She sniffed a little and crossed her arms over her chest.
"I turned sixteen last week." Clayton laughed humorlessly.
"We never had sex, so no, I wasn't." Clayton got a pair of wrinkled jeans out of his bag and tugged them on over his boxers. He decided finding a shirt at the bottom of the suitcase would take too much effort, so decided to not with one. Who cared if they saw the bruises? They'd already seen how fucked up his face was. The bruises covering his torso shouldn't be any surprise.
"I wasn't asking about your past sex life, sweetheart, I'm calling you jailbait now." She looked confused.
"But that would require someone wanting..." she trailed off then looked at him, her eyes growing wide. "Oh." Clayton would have been amused if every damn movement didn't hurt so much. But simply walking to the door made his muscles scream. As he passed Amber, he lightly ran a hand over her butt. She jumped slightly and this time he did laugh.
"Obviously your boyfriend neglected you." Clayton leaned in close, not really particularly wanting to screw the girl, just wanting to screw with her. "I could give you what he couldn't," Clayton purred into her ear, just to be an ass. She jumped again and moved away from him.
"Fuck off," she snapped. Striding easily from the room, Clayton laughed,
"I already offered that."
She ran from the house and in some random direction, not really paying attention to where she going. She just ran in a direction, wishing pain and death on Clayton McMillen. And wishing for something to drink. It wouldn't even matter what it was. Just a little bit of alcohol to numb the pain. However, she doubted that was going to happen here since The Manor was in the middle of nowhere. She'd been running for fifteen minutes and still hadn't found anything.