'As Arabella, just might have tapped into your mind and soul. You can't be sure.'
Song: Arabella - Arctic Monkeys
*****
Arabella's P.O.V:
2 YEARS AGO
"Positive."
"Positive?" I repeated as if I didn't hear him.
He looked down at the container that held the positive drug test, he closed his eyes and nodded.
"You know what this means Arabella, you broke two major rules and a law. I have no chance but to-"
"There's no fucking way this is happening. Tell me this isn't real. Tell me you're fucking kidding, This is a joke right?" I cut him off before he could finish his sentence. I clenched my fists in my hands behind my back, as I bit the inside of my cheek, in an attempt to calm myself down.
Cam looks nervous in a way, he combs his fingers through his greying hair, as he breaks eye contact with me and lets out a deep sigh. He looks down to his neat and tidy desk and fiddles with some paperwork, clearly postponing the inevitable. His shoulders slump, and he looks at me with almost pleading eyes.
He grabs a pen and starts spinning it around and twirling it on his finger, it was pissing me off. I walked up and snatched the pen out of his hand and slammed it on the wooden desk, the pen rolled off and clattered on the floor.
Cam looked up at me and rolled his eyes.
I had to get myself out of this somehow. I felt my heart pounding in my chest.
My breathing was erratic, I was so fucking scared. I was on death's door before I got this job. I was poor, homeless, and fucked in more ways than one.
I remember the first time I looked at myself in a mirror after being homeless for a few months, my eyes were sunken in, my under eye bags dark from the deprivation of sleep, my skin was getting paler as the days went on.
My skin was draped over a set of bones, and I was often freezing most nights. The cold and bitter wind would nip at my skin and my nose and ears would be red raw.
You never know who or what's going to be there at night, or what can happen. It's cold and scary. I constantly had to be alert, the streets of Las Vegas are unforgiving and dangerous.
I started to lose that glow I had, both on the outside and inside. I felt myself fading away physically and mentally when I was homeless. I was small, and useless, the unsteady flame of hope I had was getting weaker everyday. I had little to no hope, and I had no one and everything started to seem pointless. Until I somehow became lucky enough to land this job.
There was no way in hell I was about to lose this job. I had nothing if I didn't have it.
What the fuck am I supposed to do? Go back to living in the streets? No fucking way, I did that before and I nearly fucking died. Going to live on the streets again at 17 is a fucking suicide mission. I go back there and no one will save me again, no more second chances.
I go back on the streets and I'll either be killed or slowly die, from exhaustion, or hypothermia, or starvation, or something else. But regardless I'll be dead before my eighteenth.
If I lose this job it really is over for me this time. This job was my second chance, this job saved me from myself, gave me a reason to wake up every morning and carry on. It got me an apartment, friends who are basically my family, gave me money for food and other necessities. I have no one to go to after this job.
"I swear I've been clean for two fucking years now Cam. You know how fucked up my life was, you know all that. Why would I sacrifice this job for molly, meth, acid, a quick line, any of that shit? You seriously think I'm that fucking dumb? I've stopped making stupid decisions. I was at the lowest point in my life and that's why I did it. I've been clean two fucking years." I argued.
My blood is boiling, I need to punch something or someone, I can feel the anger overflowing out of me. I tried to remain calm, that's my best bet to try and save my job. I've never been good at biting my tongue about anything, but I'm fighting for this job. I need it.
"Arabella, listen to me, I believe you," he speaks with an hesitant tone, his eyes still glued to the clear container holding the obviously positive drug test that lay on the desk in front of us. "You know if the guys around here find that you've been doing shit like th-"
"Shit like what Cam?" I question him, now raising my voice at him, my patience slowly wearing thinner. "This is a fucking stripclub I'm sure no one gives a flying fuck, half the guys that come here are addicts and fucking scumbags that have wife and children back home. I see the wedding rings, the dilated pupils, it's obvious. We aren't running a fucking church. The people that come here are either shitty people or close to overdosing. You let that shit slide but won't hear me when I'm telling you I haven't touched shit. Real fucking classy."
"I'm afraid that rules are rules Arabella. Please don't make this hard. If I could, I'd let you stay, but I can't. You know I can't, this was explained from the very start, you knew what you were getting yourself into. I believe you but sometimes we have to choose ourselves over others, okay? I need this job just as much as you do. Please grab your things and leave." he looks up with an apprehensive frown on his face.
If he could let me stay he would, my fucking ass. He values his job more than anything, I get it, but him bullshitting me isn't making this any easier. He's lying through his sparkly white fucking teeth. It feels condescending, like he feels pity for me. I don't want his fucking pity, I want my job.
The air started to feel thicker, like I was suffocating in it, it started becoming harder to breathe.
He made it look like he didn't want me to go, the look on his face showed that.
He could never relate to me, he had mommy and daddy that he could go back to. I had no one, I needed this job more than him, he knew I needed it more. The selfish fucking prick chose himself.
I clenched my jaw, and grinded my teeth together. I would love to slap that stupid frown off his face. I could feel my stomach drop, this was it, I've just been fired.
I didn't have the energy to keep arguing with him right now, I knew if I started I wouldn't be able to stop. He would never listen anyways, he's stubborn when it comes to rules and to the job, that was made clear from day one. But someone has set me up, I didn't fucking do drugs. I haven't in years.
I'm too impulsive that I don't know what I'd do. I'd probably climb over the desk and start choking him, then I'd bang his head down on the desk repeatedly, and maybe stab his hand with that fucking pen that fell off the desk. But none of that would help, it'd get me in more shit, and would do more bad than good.
I had to physically bite my tongue, and I just stared at him, and shook my head. It was almost fucking laughable.
I give him a sarcastic smile that only lasts a second before I turn around and grip the handle of the door, I squeezed it tightly watching my knuckles turn white.
I ripped the door open and heard the sound of the door bang against the wall, the loud clang echoing throughout the hallway.
"Fuck you, stupid dick." I shouted as I turned around towards him whilst my back held the door open.
Before he could respond I threw up the middle finger and shook it at him. I slammed the door shut, and felt the wall shake slightly. I didn't know whether to punch the wall or cry, but I headed off to grab my things nonetheless.
Every step I took it set in more and more. It felt like every single time life is looking up for me, something always has to fuck it up. I constantly feel like I have to prove myself to everyone, I'm always trying to do better. Seems like everyone constantly underestimates me.
People hardly give me chances and when they do, I get fucked over for doing something I never did. But of course no one would believe the ex druggie. He didn't even let me try and explain, but I guarantee if it was anyone else he would.
I tried to distract myself from the fact I had a huge lump in the back of my throat as I processed the fact I really just fucking lost my job, the only job I was getting money through. I racked my brain trying to think of what the fuck was I supposed to do now.
I didn't want to cry, especially in front of everyone. My eyes burnt as I fought back the tears. My throat burnt just as bad. I felt humiliated, surely this would go round and I'd be labelled as a druggie again. It took so long to fight for the acceptance of others and that's been thrown down the drain.
I took a deep breath.
I could feel the bass of the club music slightly shaking the ground, and it thumped in my ears. I was up there dancing 30 minutes ago and now I don't have a job, and was faced with the dilemma of being homeless.
I pushed open the door to the locker room, and could hear the light giggles and conversation the girls were having. Fuck, I was going to miss this. Walking in and chatting with them, talking shit about the scumbags that come in here.
We always played this game where we look at someone who walks in the club and we guess their job, if they have a partner or kids, and what drugs they've taken or if they're drunk.
We'd always get in trouble with Cam because we'd be betting on who we think works a 9-5, who has kids etc. If you won, everyone would buy you drinks on the weekend, for the whole night.
I smile fondly at the memories, feeling bittersweet, but amongst the other girls, I spot Nevaeh sitting in front of a mirror, in a sparkly pink two piece that compliments her curves. She glances up and spots me in the mirror, giving me a smile.
I give a weak one back and she instantly sees something is wrong. She tilts her head to the side as she furrows her brows slightly.
How am I supposed to tell her?
She gave me this opportunity and now it's fucked, because of my past, and some liar.
I walk up to her, nudging the other girls out of the way, and letting out little apologies as I push my way through to Neveah.
"Hey B, what happened?" Neveah asked. She tapped on the chair next to her, as I sat down she put her hand on my knee.
"Hey Neve." I say with a quick smile.
"Cut the shit. What's up? I can't tell if you're gonna deck someone or have a fucking breakdown." She blurted out.
"Both?" I laughed weakly, I was tired now. My mind racing with what I'm going to do. Ask friends for help? Talk to my landlord? Find another job?
Fuck this was too much for one night.
"Cam called me in. It's not good, Neve. I- my test... it came back positive. I have no fucking idea how, someone is fucking with me." I spilled to her, my voice slightly wavering at times.
Her eyes widen, and a confused but equally as mad expression takes over.
"Before you say anything Neve, I swear to you I'm clean, I haven't touched a single drug in two years, you have to believe me. No one fucking believes me."
"B calm down. Stop stressing, I believe you-"
"It's just that... you went through so much to get me this job and I went and fucking blew it. I'm already underage and you could have lost your job if anyone found out. You risked your fucking job for me. I'm so sorry Neve. I don't know what to do. What the fuck do I do? I've got some left over money but not an awful lot. There's probably no jobs that will be available to me now. I don't even know how the test came back positive in the first place and I'm fucked I-" I couldn't finish my sentence as my voice began to crack and my eyes started to water.
I choked back a sob and brought my shaking hands to cover my face.
Everything was hitting me at once. I hadn't cried in a year. It's not that I hate crying, but I've just become numb to a lot of stuff at this point.
Some would argue that I use anger instead of crying, but it's easier. It hurts less to be angry.
'Hey... B listen to me' Nevaeh gets up from her seat to embrace me in a hug. She brings her hand up to gently stroke the back of my head with her thumb.
"Everything's gonna be okay. Stop blaming yourself. I know you're clean B, I believe you baby. I know you wouldn't sacrifice everything for drugs, I know you B."
I don't deserve her. Neve let me live with her for a bit before I had this job, she somehow got me an interview, she's always been there for me and been the best friend I could have asked for, and I treat her like this.
"What do I do now?" I sniffle as my head rested against her shoulder, still hugging her. She kisses my forehead in an attempt to calm me down. She brought both of her thumbs up to wipe the wetness under my eyes, and then she wiped her hands on her costume.
"I think I have an idea...."
Authors' Note // Second part of the double update will be uploaded in roughly 10-15 minutes. We love you all so much, thank you for reading, this is obviously a flashback so this isn't the actual story setting.
p.s We're so nervous. The chapters will get longer, and the story will get better as it progresses. Obviously since this is the beginning the chapters will be shorter. Hope you enjoy ahhhhh <3