ROCK BOTTOM ~ Rafe Cameron // OC // JJ Maybank

prologue.

Bexley had her hands wrapped around her legs. She was curled onto her bed, her eyes cast down to her shoes. She flinched as she heard the yelling on the other side of the door.

Her eyes flew to the door, as the handle was being turned consistently. Someone wanted in, badly. But she wasn't opening the door under any circumstances.

"God dammit!," she heard the voice yell. "Open the fucking door!"

Had anyone else been screaming at her, Bexley would have been scared.

But it was her mother. She knew her mother wasn't strong enough to force her way in. She already tried many times before.

Bexley glared at the door, her stare so intense it could almost go through it.

"Bexley, open the goddamn door!"

"Get the fuck out of here!" Bexley yelled aloud. "You're not getting any more of my fucking money!"

Not that it was ever Bexley's money. Yes, she earned it from working, but it never actually went to her. It went to the house, to food, to water, to lights.

The banging on the door stopped.

Now, her mother spoke softer, and almost with a whimper. "Please, Bex. I-I just need a couple dollars."

Bullshit. Her mother had already stolen three hundred from her just two months before.

But that's what happened when you're mother was an addict. She stole whatever she wanted to, as long as it meant keeping her supply running.

"I don't have anymore money," Bexley told her.

"You have a job," her mother said through the door. "I-I can't get one. I would if I could."

She couldn't get a job because she never left the house. Her mother was scared of the world. For good reason.

"Please, I just need a little more money. I can pay you back."

She couldn't. She never would.

"I can't keep doing this," Bexley said, aloud. "Mr. Cameron keeps cutting my hours. I-I won't have enough for the rent."

"Get more hours," her mother said, like it was the easier thing in the world.

"I can't! John B took half my shifts." More than half her shifts. Bexley used to work six days a week, now only two or three. "He's-He's better at it than me. He's good with the customers, he's good with the equipment. Mr. Cameron might end up firing me altogether."

Her mother went silent for a moment, before snapping at her, "You better not get your ass fired. You hear me? We'll fucking die without that job."

"Who's fault is that?" Bexley snapped at her, still securely seated on the floor.

Her mother slammed her fists again the door once more. Bexley jumped. She regretted her words. But they were true. They both knew they were true.

Bexley was the only one making money. Her mother was the only one spending it.

On drugs.

Cocaine, specifically. Bexley didn't even know where she got it. Every now and then she'd catch that creepy looking guy hanging around her house, maybe from him.

If only he stayed away. If only everyone just left them alone. Maybe then Bexley could help get her mother clean, and then life would be easier. It was just the two of them now, and Bexley felt like she was the mother lately.

It sounded like her mother had given up, and walked away, but Bexley stayed on the floor.

She had to ask Mr. Cameron for more shifts. She had to beg him for more. If he couldn't give her more, she'd need to get a second job as soon as possible.

That damn John B. He came, and took her hours, and messed everything up. Bexley couldn't stand him, or his friends that came and messed around while he was on shift. The only friend tolerable was the girl Kiara, and that was because she would fix everything in the small store her friends messed up.

Bexley shut her eyes tightly.

She hated getting the money, just to pay off her mom's debt, just so she could spend even more of it.

But she had to.

Tomorrow she would ask Mr. Cameron for more shifts.

She heard people say the phrase 'money doesn't buy happiness' before.

Those people obviously didn't live in The Cuts.