You arrive home, feeling run down and tired. You're beginning to think that moving to London wasn't such a good idea, after all. The impression it has made on you so far has been pretty rubbish. Maybe you would have been better moving somewhere more quiet and calm - or not moving at all.
Then again, you remember the situation with your mother at the moment, and your weariness increases. You know it's selfish to think of it, but wouldn't it be better for you just to be someone else?
You open the front door of the house, walk up to your room and go on your laptop, after changing out of your uncomfortable formal clothes and into your pyjamas. It's not even night time yet - you just feel like there's not much point in going out anywhere else today.
The whole day's happenings have left you emotionally worn out. You feel on the brink of an existential crisis.
What's the point anymore?
You try to push any depressing thoughts to the back of your mind, and open a Google search tab, typing in 'waitress job vacancies london'.
Nothing much comes up, and you don't feel like searching for anything more. You close the tab, logging in to YouTube. It always cheers you up, and you're really needing a pick-me-up after today.
You go onto Dan's channel and play his latest video, the baby food challenge one - the one he did with you. Dan's editing combined with the silly comments you two made make the video very funny. You find yourself chuckling at some parts.
You scroll through the comments on your second play through of the video, silently praying that no one is hating on you. You've seen many nasty comments on people's videos, and you can just hope that none will crop up on this video.
fluffybunnies123: ship it! omg
coolsniper360: She's pretty tbh
hedgehogsandshiz: anyone who ships them should comment with a heart on this post
There were over 4,000 reply comments. Okay, you know that not all of them are hearts, but still. You can dream. Loading the previous reply comments, you see that most of them are actually heart emojis.
You feel a smile break out across your face. People actually like the idea of you and Dan together? A few weeks ago, the idea would be unfathomable.
Your pleasant fangirl daydream is interrupted by the sound of your mobile phone ringing. You hurriedly pick it up, a little bit startled by the sudden noise.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Y/n," a person with a British accent says. You immediately know who it is.
"Hi, Dan. How are you?"
"I'm okay, thank you. Yourself?"
"Honestly, I'm having a crap day," you tell him with a sigh. "I had the most horrible interviewer ever. He was so sarcastic."
"Aw, that sounds pretty rough. What job were you applying for?" Dan asks you.
"Not anything important, just a waitress at a café, or a barista. The job wasn't specific. It was one of those ones where you go in and get interviewed, and then if they like you, you get given the job you're most suited to," you explain briefly.
"Did you get the job?"
"No," you reply glumly.
"Don't worry about it, Y/n. There are tonnes of waitress type jobs round here, and with your pretty face and personality, you won't be searching long, I know it," Dan assures you.
You brush off the fact that he called you pretty, unintentionally focusing on whatever negative things you can get out of his comment. "The thing is, most people don't like my personality. I seem to repel everyone important. I'm clumsy, forgetful, disorganised and weird."
"Look, I may have only known you for a few days, but I consider you as one of my friends. Yes, you may be clumsy and forgetful, but if your employer is really a good person, they'll see past those things. Okay?" Dan says seriously.
"Okay," you manage to say, trying not to tear up at his words. You really needed someone to tell you that everything is going to be okay.
"With the serious stuff out of the way, I just wanted to know if you saw the comments on the baby food video. Did you?"
You laugh awkwardly. "Yep - well, most of them. Some of them are a little bit strange."
"There are always some strange comments," he replies. He pauses, contemplating what to say next, probably. "I guess the pressure's on us now to get together," he says jokingly. "That's what the comments say, anyway," he adds.
Your breath hitches, and you hope he didn't hear. Despite your anxiousness, you tease him by saying, "Not necessarily..."
"Rude," he replies jokily, actually sounding a bit crestfallen.
You go into a panic. "I was just joking," you assure him, laughing quietly. "You're really nice..."
He sighs dramatically. "Phew! I was beginning to think that you hated me."
You chuckle, not knowing what to say to that. Damn you, social awkwardness.
"So... uh, I was thinking..." he continues. "Do you want to meet at Starbucks tomorrow for coffee and then go to the cinema afterwards? Or- or something like that, I mean, well, uh... I don't even really know what you're into or anythi-"
"You're rambling," you tease.
He gives a slightly forced sounding laugh. "Shush, you."
"But yeah, that would be fantastic!" you continue. "What time?"
"Is 5pm okay?"
"Yeah, sure! I'll see you at Starbucks tomorrow, then."
"Yep," Dan confirms. He pauses. "I'd better go, actually. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Bye," you reply, not wanting him to go but unable to bring yourself to ask him to stay.
As you hang up, your stomach rumbles, so you put down your phone and head downstairs to the kitchen to look for some food.
You open a cupboard and reach out to grab a can of soup. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion when your hand clasps on thin air. You peer further into the cupboard to see that it's completely empty. Strange...
Oh well. You must have put the soup in a different cupboard, that must be it.
You open cupboard after cupboard, but each time, find them empty. There's no doubt this time - all the food is gone.
"What the hell?!" you say to yourself. You stand there for a minute, running a hand through your hair and contemplating what to do.
You finally decide to walk upstairs to the landlord's room to confront him. Either he took it, or there was a robbery. You doubt that a robber would just take the food and leave everything else alone.
The landlord's door is open, and the room is dark, the curtains drawn shut and the lights off. You hesitate for a moment, then compose yourself and walk in. The small room reeks of alcohol, sweat and urine.
The man himself is lying on the bed, sprawled out and snoring deeply. A few empty cans of beer, some crisp packets and some used tissues are scattered around the room.
Ew, you think, almost gagging from the smell and the state of the room.
Despite the strong desire to turn away and go to your own room, you force yourself forward towards the bed.
You reach out to shake his shoulder to wake him up, but decide against it upon seeing the state of his clothes.
You look around in desperation and see a broom leaning against the wall. You pick it up and hesitantly poke the landlord's cheek with the handle end.
He doesn't respond at all, so you do it again. Still no response.
You suddenly have an idea, one which might help to wake him up. You go into the bathroom, fill up a glass of ice cold water from the sink and splash it on his face.
He splutters angrily, jerks upwards and glares at you. You shrink under his gaze, but then remember what you came here for, and try to look more confident.
"What?" he says gruffly, his breath stinking of beer and sleep. He narrows his eyes at you.
You decide to be direct with him, so it might get through to his tiny brain. "The food I bought yesterday is gone. All the cupboards are empty."
"And what do you want me to do about it?" he demands, sneezing loudly afterwards into his grubby duvet. His words are slurred. He's clearly drunk.
Your want to throw up increases, but you just look into the landlord's eyes and glare. "You are going to buy it all again."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because you ate the stuff I bought - all of it, and you owe me!" you exclaim, your hands curling into fists.
The landlord just scoffs. "Sure thing, love." The sarcasm is practically dripping off his words.
"Asshole," you retort angrily, turning around to walk back to your room.
a/n: just a heads up - scenes of an abusive nature below this notice. you can skip to the next chapter if you don't want to read it :)
Something comes into contact with your right ankle, sweeping you roughly off your feet and making you land with a 'thump' on the floor.
Your ankle throbs painfully, and you squeeze your eyes tightly shut as the pounding of your head overwhelms you.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see the landlord's foot about to collide with your head, so you roll away from him and get to your feet swiftly, grabbing the broom as a weapon.
"Stay back," you warn, holding the broom out defensively with one hand and reaching for your phone with the other. "I'm calling the police."
You feel a warm liquid running down from your lip, and you taste the metallic flavour of blood, which makes you cringe.
You get your phone out and look away from the landlord for about two seconds so you can dial 999.
He moves quicker than you would expect for a man his age, knocking the phone out of your hand with a painful slap, and twisting your arm around, making you drop the broom.
You hear a sickening crack from your wrist, and you let out a yelp, which the landlord soon muffles by putting his dirty hand over your mouth.
Tears spring from your eyes because of the extreme pain in your wrist. You're pretty sure it's broken.
You look at your phone, the screen cracked in the corner. It turns out that you didn't actually get to type in the third 9 in the emergency number.
You struggle against the man's grip, making desperate noises of protest. Still, he keeps a firm grip on you.
You know something that will make him let go, but you really don't want to do it. After a few more minutes of useless struggling, you decide that your only option is to bite his hand.
You chomp down on his hand, hard. He grunts and lets go of you briefly. You take this chance and slide out of his grip, picking up your phone and tapping the number 9 button, completing the phone number.
To your complete horror, the phone screen flashes with the low battery symbol, then goes completely black. Just your luck, isn't it?
You feel the landlord grab your shoulders, his nails digging into the pressure points. Your knees buckle and you collapse onto the floor, dropping your phone once again.
The man brings you to your feet again roughly, only to push you into the solid plaster wall. Your head smashes off the surface with a 'clunk'.
You barely have time to recover before you're pushed into the wall again, your ears ringing as a result.
You get more and more light-headed until you can't stand any more. You fall onto the floor and curl up. Suddenly, the pain overwhelms you and you black out.
a/n: 0 to 100 real quick tho right