Sarah… Sarah, open up…” Mr. Clinton called out, knocking on my door. “Are you clothed?”
Reluctantly, I sat up on my bed, still thinking of a way to explain myself because I knew he had tons of questions for me.
“Sarah…” he called out again because of my silence.
“I… I’m still half-naked, but you can come in…” I trailed off, my voice turning into a whisper as I mouthed, “Not that I have anything to wear anyway…”
He entered the room, his face a mix of disapproval and disappointment as he saw that I was still half-naked despite his earlier expectation that I would have gotten dressed by now.
“You seem unmoved by the earlier commotion, huh…” he remarked with his arms crossed.
“Mr. Clinton, it isn’t what you think…” I started, but he interrupted since I wasn’t getting straight to the explanation.
“What was that stunt you pulled out there, and why are your clothes all over the place?” He reprimanded, a frown etched on his face.
“Erin did it,” I interjected, standing up from the bed. “She set me up.”
He didn’t respond but stared at me incredulously, his gaze penetrating.
“You don’t believe me, do you…” I asked, my voice dropping with disappointment.
He sighed, a bit exasperated by my explanation. “I am having a hard time understanding your side of the story, Sarah,” he said, his doubt palpable.
How was I meant to make him believe me when he kept doubting me?
“I…” I teetered, trying to find any words to convince him.
“I and Erin left the house at the same time, and I saw her taking a cab, so how did she strew your clothes all over the place?” He added, his voice low but sharp enough to cut my skin.
Now I decided to tell him everything since Erin wasn’t present to stop me.
“Mr. Clinton, Erin has been acting strange for the past few weeks; she…” I paused when I noticed the disbelief in his eyes.
His brow furrowed, his gaze steady on me. I would have mistaken his expression for curiosity, but looking deeper, he seemed to think my excuses were implausible.
“Sarah, what’s your issue with Erin? You two have been acting strange around each other,” he said, now eager to hear my reply.
I took a deep breath. “I don’t know why she hates me; she has been mentally tormenting me ever since,” I said, frustration evident in my voice.
For a moment, I saw a flicker of uncertainty cross his face- a hint that he might be reconsidering his initial skepticism. But his expression hardened again, and he asked me another probing question.
“I don’t understand; what do you mean by tormenting…” His tone remained cautious, and I dared to hope he would finally listen.
But just as the devil would have it, the door swung open, revealing Erin standing in the doorway with a heap of clothes in her hand.
Her eyes darted to both of us, her expression a mix of curiosity and disapproval.
“Sarah, why were your clothes scattered around the whole house…” she asked. Then she paused, her eyes wandering all over me. “And why are you… only… in a bra… and… panties?” She drawled, sneaking glances at Mr. Clinton, then back at me, a subtle smirk playing on her lips.
My lips twitched as I fought the urge to tear her apart with my bare hands. I avoided her gaze, unsure how to continue the conversation with Mr. Clinton in her presence. Certainly, she would twist it around to her favor and call me the deranged one.
“What happened? Why aren’t you saying anything, Sarah?” She asked, feigning concern. She turned to Clinton, her mouth silently gasping as if incredulous at the fact that he was the mastermind behind all of this.
“Mr. Clinton, what happened to her… did anyone strip you almost naked…” She chuckled in between, making a joke out of my situation. “You look stressed out with that face.”
Mr. Clinton glanced at her and back to me. His expression was calm and collected; his earlier skepticism had disappeared. “You, Erin, and I will have a little talk after lunch.”
With that said, he turned around but halted at the doorway and tilted his head at me. “You might want to find another explanation for the ladies downstairs,” he said, his eyes darting to Erin and me before he finally left.
“Erin, you bitch…” I fumed, containing my anger, my eyes shooting daggers at her. “What was the meaning of that? Why the fuck did you do something that outrageous…? You made me look like… a…”
“Rambling fool…” She spat, interrupting me, her face devoid of any emotion. She tossed my clothes at me, a smirk playing on her lips. “I helped you dry them; you should thank me,” she said with a hint of sarcasm.
My fingers pressed on the soft fabric, my face contorted with a mix of anger and frustration. “Y… you…”
“I thought you wanted to seduce Mr. Clinton, so I made it easier for you, but I didn’t know Miss Ross would be there too…” She interrupted me again, the words rolling out of her mouth like butter. She tsked, her lip poised as she closed the distance between us.
I stepped back, unable to respond or challenge her. I remained silent, letting her spout all she wanted; after all, I never win in arguments like this.
“So how did Mr. Clinton react when he saw you? Was he seduced…” She purred in mockery, her shoulders bouncing in quiet laughter.
“Why are you doing all of this…” I couldn’t help but ask as I wondered what fueled her resolve to want to cause a rift between me and Mr. Clinton. All I understood a little was she was trying to turn everyone against me bit by bit. But why, I do not know. “Why, Erin…” I asked again, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Let’s just say…” She drawled, gazing at the ceiling, her fingers clinging together as if in deep thought. Then all of a sudden, she replied, her voice sharp and annoying. “I can’t tell you.”
I huffed, exasperated by her playful mischief. Looking away, I flung my clothes onto my bed, attempting to walk away, but she held my hand to stop me.
“Sarah, don’t be like that,” she pouted, stroking my palm. “It’s not your fault you are going through all of this. It’s just that you were at the wrong place at the wrong time, and it happened that you’re quite unfortunate to be the scapegoat…”
Her smile widened, her lashes fluttering under the dim light of the room.
I remained silent, trying to grasp her true intentions. Still, I haven’t pieced together the pieces, but with time, I know I will. I just have to retaliate discreetly and carefully.
Erin then poked my shoulder, her playful smile spreading across her lips. “Come on, get some proper clothes on. Remember we have a little talk with Mr. Clinton after lunch.”