The Scrap Collector and the Heiress

Old Man Hemlock was picking through trash when he accidentally snagged the skirt of some rich girl, Tiffany Sterling.

She had him tied to the back of her car and dragged him to his death.

All I found was half of Grandpa, the rest of him ground away.

A year later, Tiffany was starting her freshman year at State U.

And guess who ended up as her roommate? Me.

1

I came back from my waitressing job to find my side of the room a disaster.

Plastic wrappers from junk food, spilled soda, used tampons, tissues with dried, yellow goo on them.

All of it laid out, like some kind of grotesque art piece, right on my bed.

"Like your welcome gift?"

Tiffany, as if she were some kind of queen, floated down from her top bunk and stood right in front of me.

Her perfectly manicured, red-nailed hands covered her nose, wrinkling her face like she smelled a dumpster.

I threw her a big, fake smile.

"Totally love it."

I swept the mess to the side, kicked off my worn-out shoes, and plopped down on the bed.

"I should have answered Tiffany's call, I should have gotten her the painting on time. I deserve this."

Tiffany was clearly not expecting me to just lie down on the trashed bed. She stood there for a second, mouth gaping.

Then, she snapped out of it.

"You're gonna lie on that? Get up and clean that mess before you stink up the place!"

And with a huff, and clicking her six-inch stilettos, she walked out of the room.

I got up and quietly cleaned up the mess. When Grandpa and I were living on the streets, I'd slept on worse.

This was nothing.

Right now, making Tiffany happy was the most important thing.

I'd put too much time and effort into getting close to her to let a small thing like this ruin it.

My mind went back to move-in day. Tiffany, the spoiled heiress, had hated the dorms. She wanted to move off-campus right away.

Her butler kept trying to appease her. But it was a painting that had accidentally fallen out of my bag that did the trick.

She got into State on an art scholarship.

But I knew that all her "masterpieces" were just paid for by her rich dad.

I knew my talent would get her attention.

And it did.

To make sure I was easier to manipulate, she started with the PUA tactics.

And I played along, becoming what she wanted me to be – docile, agreeable, a total people pleaser.

"You're so talented, [My Name]," Tiffany would say. "You should be in art, not pre-med."

Tiffany was testing me, of course.

Each time, I'd stare at her with wide eyes, full of false adoration.

"My dream is to be a doctor. Art is just a fun hobby," I'd reply with a cheerful tone. "And it would be amazing if my art was displayed to the public thanks to you."

She lapped it up.

She had no idea that my art was taught to me by my grandpa.

And that he died because of her.

I was an orphan when Grandpa adopted me.

He had adopted another little girl once before.

But that little girl had cried and run back to the orphanage.

"Ewww, he's dirty, and stinky!" she'd sc...