"We're moving." my mum said as she applied her bright red lipstick in the rearview mirror.

"Wait, what?" I looked up at her in surprise.

"You heard me. Since you fucked up our opportunity with Johnson, I had to find us a new job." The traffic light turned green and a car honked behind us. I slapped my mum's arm to get her to concentrate on the road.

"You've got to be kidding me. We've barely been here for six months!" I cried, the back of my head banging on the car seat as she stepped on the gas.

"Darl, we aren't getting any income here. You're the one to blame for that. If you actually start pulling your own weight we might-" she started, her Brooklyn accent thick.

"No." I huffed, cutting her off. "I told you I don't want to do that, mum. Maybe if you were actually supportive of my passions then-"

"Well your passions won't get you very far in life unless you have the talent." she snapped, pulling into our driveway. "And you don't."

I jumped out of the car before she had even pressed on the brakes and slammed the door behind me. I could hear her yelling at me from inside the car but I ran into the house before she could catch up.

I sprinted to my bedroom and slammed the door behind me. There was no point in arguing. Once my mother made up her mind, there was no changing it.

Moving wasn't a big deal to me anyway. We moved towns at least once a year, which is why I barely had time to make any friends. When I did, I was gone the next day and never saw them again.

You could say my relationship with my mum wasn't the best. The way she lived her life was different to the way I wanted to live mine and that caused a lot of conflict in our small household.

You see, my mum was what you'd call a prostitute. She fucked guys for money and tried to get me into the business with her.

Now don't get me wrong, I refused to do it and she usually backed off, but not for very long.

The last job that my mum had was with this millionaire who owned a few large companies and literally showered us with riches. I was fine with what she was doing, I was used to it. But when she tried to involve me, I wasn't having it. The guy was in his fifties.

I was forced into a room alone with him and I couldn't do it. I panicked and called the cops after he threatened to do worse things to me if I didn't give in. Even though he didn't get in trouble for it, he didn't want anything to do with us from then on and we were left with no stable source of income. This is how I'd spent my whole life - moving from place to place once our employers got sick of us.

I'd been tempted to move out before, but it wasn't like I had any other relatives who would take me in. My mum never told me who my dad was and I had never met him. I didn't think he even knew I existed, considering she had told me countless times that I was the result of a faulty condom. She was too far into her pregnancy to have an abortion when she realised she was carrying me.

"Go pack your shit, we're leaving tomorrow." My mum banged on the door before walking away.

"Whatever." I replied, rolling my eyes. I rolled off the bed and started to pack my clothes into cardboard boxes that I had stowed away in my cupboard. Because I moved around so much, I'd learnt not to keep lots of belongings. It was too much of a nuisance to pack and unpack and then pack again.

I wasn't sad about leaving this town, though. I hadn't made any friends since everyone at school found out about my mother's 'career', and there wasn't even enough colour in the dry climate for me to find anything good to paint.

Art was my passion. It was an escape from reality that helped me relax and calm down after a stressful day. I sold some of my artwork before and had been saving it all. For what, I didn't know.

I used to get upset about the zero shits she gave about me and my wellbeing. When I was eight years old, I had appendicitis and my mum didn't take me to the hospital until my appendix had actually burst and I had nearly died. Once I had recovered and woken up, the first thing that she said to me was that I was going to have to pay off the hospital bill.

Not anymore, though. I was used to it by now and anything she threw at me I could throw back twice as hard.

I'd never really had anybody love or care about me, so I'd never known how to love or care about anybody else.

I sat staring out the window of the passenger seat. The boxes full of fake china and cutlery kept rattling in the back seat and I hadn't been able to sleep since we started driving, five hours ago.

After staring at nothing through my window for so long, when we passed a sign that was lying flat on the ground I pressed my face against the glass to see it in excitement.

Welcome to

Derry

Maine

Population: 3 960

Thunder cracked overhead and it started to rain.

I sat on my bed in the new house. My bedroom was slightly smaller then my last, but it had a peaked roof which made up for it. I had just hung up some of my favourite artwork on hooks that were already there and the rest of my belongings were unpacked. My door opened suddenly and my mother walked in, dressed in a tight black dress with heavy makeup and her platinum blonde hair hanging at her shoulders in big curls.

I lived with her, yet rarely ever saw what she looked like naturally. She had fake breasts, a fake nose, wore makeup all the time. She always told me that I should, too, but I rarely did. I learned from her mistakes. She had become so consumed with changing her appearance and keeping the perfect face all the time that she was too insecure to leave the house without any of that superficial protection. That was one of the things that I pitied her for.

"You'll need to unpack everything downstairs because I'm going out to meet one of my clients. I have a list of guys who are interested in you, too." she said.

"Mum, I told you I'm done with this shit. I thought you said you understood."

"Darl, you should be grateful I put a roof over your head. If you're not going accept the work I found for you, then you're going to have to find another way to make money and help pay the rent. We aren't living in this house for nothin'."

"I never wanted you to 'find people' for me." I muttered. "Look, I'll find another job. Just stop bugging me with this stuff." I replied, my face hardening as I remembered the previous times she had suggested I join her business.

She ignored me, handing me a slip of paper. "You have a week. If you don't make a five hundred dollars by then, you'll be needing this."

With that, she walked out of my room and slammed the door shut. I looked down at my hand to see a list of names and phone numbers. I stuck my middle finger up at the closed door.

"Five hundred dollars in a week? You're buggin'."

I looked at myself in the mirror. I was naturally pretty and I knew it. My mum had taught me from a young age how to use my beauty to my advantage when dealing with boys and now it was something that I'd never be able to ignore.

My long dark brown hair was left out in it's wavy state and hanging at my waist. My face was clean of makeup aside from a thin layer of chapstick and my green eyes were puffy from a sleepless night. I used to make an effort when starting at a new school, but now I couldn't be bothered. It always ended the same; people found out that my mother was a prostitute, rumours were then spread about me being one too and I was left alone with less friends than I started with.

I wasn't going to let myself get hurt again. Who gave a shit what people thought about me? I certainly didn't, not anymore.

I took my bike and rode to school, admiring the pretty town of Derry. The streets were clean and inviting and people were simply going on with their day, oblivious to anything besides themselves. I pulled up at the school and chained my bike to the rack before heading into the building. I tried my best to ignore the curious looks from other students but it was hard when it was all you could see.

I managed to find my way to my locker and was about to enter the combination when I was bumped, my books falling out of my bag and onto the floor as I swore loudly. I looked up to see what had caused me to make this mess, and was greeted with a pair of oversized glasses staring at me.

"Do you want a fresh one?" I snapped, crossing my arms across my chest as I waited for him to pick up my books. I had been here for a solid five minutes and people were already targeting me.

"Oh fuck! Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't see you there." he said, bending down to pick up my stuff.

"You'd think that with those size specs you'd actually be able to see." I said, feeling slightly guilty at how I had reacted. I bent down and picked up the last couple of items. "But it's okay." I added as he handed me my books. I turned away from him and managed to get my locker open without anyone else knocking me, this time, but still felt his presence hovering next to me.

"I'm Richie." he said, holding out his hand for me to shake.

"Lara." I said slowly as I shook it.

"Well nice to meet you. You must be new, so I assume-"

Richie was cut off by someone bumping him on his shoulder and he lurched forward, almost toppling over. I managed to catch his arm and he quickly righted himself, blushing. What was with people at this school and not seeing where they were going? We turned to look at the culprit and a tall boy with dark, shaggy hair looked at Richie with a mocking smile.

"Watch it, four-eyes. Don't want a repeat of last week, do we?" he smirked. Richie gulped and the guy turned to look at me. His eyes moved up and down before he winked. I made a gagging noise and he laughed, apparently unfazed. He banged his fist against Richie's locker before stalking off.

I turned to look at Richie who was as white as a ghost and frozen to the spot. I waved a hand in front of his face and he snapped out of it, swallowing audibly as he looked around worriedly. "Look, it was nice to meet you but I better get to class. See you around, Laura."

"It's Lara." I whispered as he walked away, but he didn't give me a second glance.

I sighed and closed my eyes. The first person I met couldn't even get my name right - this was going to be a fun day.