THE SMELL OF MUD WOULD forever haunt Quinta James. Before the program, she could hardly tell it had a scent. Before then, she thought it was just something you saw. It was something she and her friends often came home covered it. Now, the sight of it made her panic. The smell of it made her vomit. Now, she stared at the patch of mud on her jeans and felt trapped. She could feel herself floating, taking her across the country and back onto that stupid ranch. It was raining, and she was desperate and starving — she needed some bread before she passed out, so she tried to sneak it. Little did she know that trying to save herself would only damage herself.

Quinta James stared at the white scar on her left shoulder. It left a small bump on her skin, in the shape of a 'U', and it made her sick. Looking at it, she could see it happening all over again. Touching it, she could feel it: the burn, the scream, the metal singing into her skin, the wound instantly going infected and yellow. It was happening all over again, and Quinta cringed at the awful memories that plagued her day and night.

Returning home, she thought that she'd be able to finally put the past year behind her. She truly believed she'd be able to just get over everything that happened. But the simple, dried-up smell of mud felt like she was hearing her old favourite song, taking her back to the times she'd hear it. She could hardly look her dad in the eye without remembering the way he abondoned her, or stare at her friends without the memories of the poor, young souls she met on the ranch, or meet her brother's expression without watching him laugh and drink coffee with the same staff members that abused her.

However, most importantly, she couldn't bare to think of the Cameron family without feeling her body heat up with firey pits of rage. They did this. Every small thing that happened to her this year was caused by them. It was them who defended Rafe, it was them who told the cops, it was them who twisted their ways inside her dad's head and heavily suggested the program, it was them who turned the entire island against their family and put them all out of work, and it was them who helped her dad pay for it.

And, even now, back home and ready to begin a brand new chapter of her life, Quinta James found herself, once again, suffering under the hand of the wicked man who was Ward Cameron. What kind of sick pleasure did he take in causing the downfall of an innocent, teenage girl? She understood in the beginning — it was shitty, but she knew he would've done anything to keep his son out of trouble. But now? Why couldn't he just leave her alone and drop it?

There was not a single group of humans Quinta despised more than the Cameron family. Every single one of them. She couldn't care less if they helped Ward or not; Quinta would forever be praying for their downfall. And she was worried that if it didn't come soon, her anger might boil up so badly that her entire body would explode and she'd give them the karma they deserved.

There was a sudden knock against the bathroom door, pulling the teenager away from her thoughts. "Quinn! C'mon, we gotta go!" It was the sound of her older brother, D'Andre's voice calling her from outside, letting her know they had work now.

She huffed, pulling on a dark green, emerald drawstring hoodie to cover the scar on her shoulder. She refused to let Ward Cameron take pleasure on her pain. Weakness was never an emotion she'd ever let that man see; only ever power and peace. Quinta would never let him know how much that dark place destroyed her once campfire warm, now icy cold, soul.

"I wasn't even hired for this crap," she muttered as she opened the bathroom door, being greeted by the tall frame of her older brother.

"I know, but the hurricane hit and Dad's crapping his pants," D'Andre shrugged. "Might aswell earn a few more bucks."

Quinta rolled her eyes. "From the Camerons, though?" she pointed out with a huff. "He's just giving them more power over us."

"Money's money, kid," her brother told her, tone softening. "And it's not like anyone else's gonna hire us after..." His eyes fell on her, and they were so gentle it became patronising.

Quinta huffed again and walked ahead. She was so sick and tired of being treated like the out of control, teen psycho villain of this story. She went through hell and back, only to go home and have people act like she deserved everything that happened. Like being stolen in the middle of the night and trapped on a farm, where she was starved and neglected, was really what was best for her. People literally walked on the other side of the road to avoid her; half her friends' parents thought she was a bad influence; she'd turned into the town's teenage freakshow when she was once the child sweetheart. All because some man thought it'd be fun to tear her apart and strip her from humanity.

Well, she wasn't going to let Ward Cameron get the last laugh. No. One day, Quinta would have the upper-hand. And, when that day came, the Camerons would be shitting themselves, on their knees and begging for the forgiveness Quinta would never grant them. They'd had enough time to apologise now, enough time to make things right, but they left her to rot in that place, fully aware of the things that were going on, and she wanted to destroy them for that.

"You two leaving now?" Dom James questioned from the yard as his children left their small home.

D'Andre nodded. "Yeah. Ward wants us there for eight with the others," he explained.

"Mr Cameron," his dad corrected quickly. He turned his eyes to his daughter, who already looked tired of her day. "Have a good attitude and don't get into any trouble, understand?"

Quinta put on a fake, sweet smile. "No promises," she said, like a five year old trying to sass her way into getting extra chips at Christmas.

Knowing she wasn't serious, Dom shook his head. "Seriously, best behaviour, Quinn. I love you."

Quinta nodded. "I love you too," she said back, but her stomach fell into knots when he stepped forward to give her a hug.

Because she was questioning him. She was truly questioning her own father's love for her. She felt awful just thinking about it, but it was hard to believe he cared a dime about her after everything. Who puts their scary boss before their young daughter? What kind of dad stands by and lets some man ruin his child's life?

As a small girl, Quinta always had the best relationship with her dad. D'Andre and Dom were close, too, but the bond between him and his daughter was something truly special. His wife died in childbirth, and so he swore to give Quinta the best life she could've ever have, despite their money problems. And he did just that. For the first fifteen years, everything was perfect.

And then last year happened.

Quinta wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to completely forgive her dad for everything. She knew it wasn't his fault, and she knew he was manipulated and scared, but he could've fought for her. He could've tried to stand up for her a little. But, instead, he turned into Ward's little puppet, and threw his daughter out like she was nothing.

"It's good to have you home, Princess," Dom said, pulling back from the embrace. "It killed me not having you here. The house felt so empty."

Quinta nodded. She couldn't even respond. If he wanted her home so badly, then why did he throw her away in the first place? Why didn't he take her back when he visited?

"Dad, please, take me home," Quinta cried the first time she saw her father in two months. She was never an emotional person, but the moment she saw him, she ran into his arms, broke into tears and begged him to save her from this hell. "Dad, please."

"They're helping you, Quinn," Dom said, hugging her back.

"They're hurting me," she sobbed. "Please."

"Quinn —"

"Quinta!" one of the staff members called, glaring at the girl. They weren't supposed to tell their families what went on here; the last kid who did was put in the isolation camp for a whole week.

When the young girl looked back up at her dad, her dark eyes were filled with weakness and vulnerability — two things Quinta James never showed. "Dad," she whispered, her bottom lip quivering.

"You need to get back to work, Princess," he told her sadly. "I'll come and see you again next month. Take you out for ice cream."

"Take me home," she begged.

"I can't, Quinn."

"Quinta!"

"Get back to your work, baby."

"Dad..." Tears fell down her eyes as she watched him climb into the car with D'Andre, who looked guiltier than ever. They weren't taking her with them. They were leaving her here.

Suddenly, a cold grasp went around Quinta's wrist, causing the teenager to gasp, her expression shifting from sadness to fear when she glanced up at the angry face of her councillor. She looked back at the car, praying her dad would see and jump out to get her.

But he was already gone.

✭✭✭

QUINTA JAMES WAS FURIOUS. HURRICANE Agatha hit the island pretty hard last weekend, and she caused serious damage. The entire landscape was filled with fallen trees and trash and the corpses of dead animals, all because some bitch in the sky decided to take out all her rage on them. And now that meant that, even though their own homes were rotting and breaking from the storm, all the poorer residents of OBX were forced to pull in extra time at work to clean up for the rich people, who were too lazy to do anything themselves. And, of course, with her amazing luck, Quinta was assigned to the Camerons.

"What are you doing? Stop!"

Quinta's eyes couldn't have rolled any further back in her head. Honestly, she was pretty sure those balls of brown did a whole three-sixty. All she wanted was to get on, do her job as quick as possible, and get the hell away from this property. But, no. Of course, something had to stop her. Literally.

A tall blonde girl leaped towards her, grabbing the trash bag in her hands and scooping out a dead rat with her gloved hands. "Oh, the poor thing!" Sarah Cameron sympathised sadly. "You can't just bin him. He needs to be buried."

"I'm not being paid to dig holes," Quinta said boredly, not hiding her hatrid for the girl standing in front of her. She snatched the bag back. "Can I get back to my job now?"

Sarah looked up at her, furrowing her eyebrows at the expression on her face. "Jeez. There's no need for the attitude," she said, shrugging. "I was just trying to respect a poor creature's life."

"And I was just trying to do my job so I can get the fuck away from you and your deranged family," Quinta shot back rudely, having no time or patience for any Cameron.

In her eyes, they were all monsters. The evil was in their DNA. In her eyes, all of them were responsible. She knew it sounded insensitive and immature, but she didn't care. She had no sympathy for any of them. They all stood by in their ivory tower, drinking champagne and throwing parties, knowing they were the reason there was a girl was on the other side of the country, starved and beaten, being forced to do hard-labour at six am in the freezing rain.

It was all their fault, and that made her mad. The fact that she was still working for them made her angry. But the way Sarah was trying to talk to her, telling her that she had an attitude, made her livid. How did she have the audacity to stand there and look her in the eye? If she wasn't absolutely terrified of being sent back to the industry, Quinta would've slapped her.

'Respect' for 'a poor creature's life', Sarah had said. Well, where the hell was that kind of respect when Quinta was rotting in what seriously felt like hell last year?

Sarah scoffed, following Quinta as she walked off with an eye roll. "What is your problem?" she questioned. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I've said nothing provoking, and you're just being rude. And my family?" She shook her head, questioning the audacity of the girl in front of her. "If anything, you should be thanking us for taking you back after you nearly murdered my brother!"

Quinta suddenly paused, biting the inside of her cheeks to refrain herself from slamming the blonde's head into a tree. "Right!" She laughed loudly. "I totally forgot! Thank you all so much for sending me away and turning me into the town's horror story! I'm so sorry, I should be on my hands and knees, worshipping you all like the freaking Gods you are!"

Sarah shrugged, not phased by the shouting. "That's not on us. You did that to yourself."

Quinta scoffed, shaking her head. "Fuck you, Cameron," she huffed, throwing the trash bag and storming away. She didn't even care that she'd get in trouble — if she stood there for another second, the blonde would've died.

Watching her leave, Sarah Cameron let out a small laugh. She didn't mean to, and she knew this wasn't a funny situation, but she couldn't lie and say she didn't find it amusing to annoy people. The fact that her simple presence was enough to piss Quinta off was quite humouring to her. She didn't understand why the girl was so mad, but it was a silly sight.

She shook her head, rolling her eyes and picking the bag up from the ground. "God, how dramatic."

A/N: when they hate each other in the beginning >>

i love quinta, her backstory is pretty sad, but her personality is going to be so loveable once y'all get to know her more.

also, neither of the girls are in the wrong in this chapter : quinta thinks sarah was in on everything that happened, and sarah doesn't even know what happened. please don't hate on my girls, i love them both :)

love, tay </3