The Maid For Styles

Chapter 9

Chloe's POV

"Chloe!" He fumed.

I stayed silent, feeling the slightest bit intimidated by the tone of his voice. I heard his heavy breathing getting closer to the lounge room and I bit my lip. He finally entered the room, his cold hard glare set on me.

"Where the fuck did you go?" He hissed, running a hand through his curls.

"Home," I answered simply.

"You were supposed to help me pick out an outfit!" He yelled, clenching his fists by his side.

"Well, would you want to pick out an outfit with someone who told you that you were fat and needed to go to the gym?" I said, raising my eyebrows. He scoffed and shook his head.

"It's not about what you want, Chloe. You're the maid and you're supposed to do what I say. Remember, you fucking live off us! This is how you get your money, yet you don't seem to be doing a very good job, because you disobey everything I say!" He growled, his voice getting louder towards the end.

"Harry, I've done everything for you. Everything you've asked me to do has been done for you. You've done nothing for yourself during the time I've been here. So don't go telling me that I'm not doing a good job, because I'm disobeying everything you say," I hissed, glaring at him.

"You're so shit at your job it's ridiculous," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"You know what, Harry? While you're at it, why don't you just insult me with everything you've got? You seem to be doing a pretty good job at it already. I mean, I've been called fat and now I've been told I'm shit at my job. Is there anything else I should know?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"There's so many things I could say to insult you, Chloe. Do you really want to hear it?" He asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah, go ahead," I said, motioning for him to continue.

"Okay... You're shit at your job. You have an awful taste in clothing. Your make-up looks shit. You look ugly in the morning. Your cooking skills suck. Your personality is horrible and I don't understand how people can possibly like you. You're not very skinny for someone who's tall and the height of a model. You can't sing, you sound like a dying whale. You can't play the guitar, it sounds shit. But worst of all, you've ruined our lives since you've been here. It was so much better before you came and started all this shit with me. It sucks with you here. I hate it," he hissed.

I didn't even realise I was crying until I felt a tear slip off my cheek and onto my hand. I looked away from his gaze and picked up my plate that still had my hardly touched sandwich sitting on it. I looked up to Harry and he stood there, a monotone expression across his face.

"When I asked you to insult me with everything you've got, I didn't think they would be that bad. I didn't know I was such a failure of a person. So, I'm sorry I'm ugly. I'm sorry I'm not skinny like a model. I'm sorry I can't cook. I'm sorry that I can't sing and you have to put up with hearing me sing. I'm sorry I'm a shitty person. I'm sorry that I've tried so hard to be helpful around here, and most of all, I'm sorry that I ruined your life, okay? I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice cracking at the end of my small speech.

I turned around and walked into the kitchen, tears slipping down my cheeks. I put my sandwich into the bin and washed my plate. I then walked back into the lounge room, making my way to my room. I saw Harry still standing there, same monotone expression and before. I let out a shaky breath and walked up stairs to my room. I shut my door and collapsed on my bed. Tears ran down my cheeks and sobs left my mouth.

Had I really ruined their lives? I thought they didn't mind having me around. I thought I was helpful. I guess not. I was just a girl with a shitty personality that was a burden in their lives. Although, that might've what Harry thought of me. Maybe the others liked me? It still hurt knowing that one person could think so lowly of me.