I never thought in all of my life that I would ever be in such a horrible situation. Ever. Then again, I never thought I would be in Devon Remmington's bedroom, backed up against a wall, having him whisper in my ear seductively. Nor did I expect to be cornered in a room filled with psycho sluts that wanted to kill me. Sounds fun, right?

If you said yes, I think I am going to have to come at you with a golden hatchet.

If you said no, then, I bow at your feet and completely agree with you. I would never be in those stupid situations if my monster of a step-mother hadn't been so greedy. And now look where it got me.

In a mansion with at least fifty other girls for five months trying to win over the hottest, wealthiest guy in my fantastical little town of Bloomington. You see, Devon Remmington's father was the owner of a multimillion company. And in order to take over that company, Devon had to marry someone. So, every girl between the age of and nineteen and twenty-one are eligible to marry him. But, in my case, forced is the word.

Any girl would lie in front of pink tank to marry him, but I'm not any girl. Which, in that case, sucks to be me.

I think I should start from the beginning though.

"There is no way in Hell I am going." I hissed at Lucinda, my crazy bitch of a step-mother.

"Yes, you are, Gwen." Lucinda narrowed her make-up caked muddy brown eyes at me.

"Why? Can't you just be happy with having your own daughter being sacrificed to this torture?" I asked her, and then looked over at my step-sister, Mariella. Her fake perioxide blonde hair drenched with hair spray, and make-up caked over her equally muddy eyes.

"No, both of you must go. That way, we-as a family- have a better chance at getting some of the large quantity of money with held in that family." Lucinda smiled as if she had won, but she was wrong. She was always wrong. But, I guess that's the side effects of dying your hair one hundred too many times.

"So? It's not like he would marry me anyway." I crossed my arms over my chest.

"That is not true. You could be very beautiful if you added a little more make-up and had a new wardrobe." Lucinda smiled and gave me a quick glance over. I looked down quickly at my skinny jeans and purple converse.

"There is nothing wrong with my clothing," I huffed, and then muttered, "And I do not need anymore make-up, or I'd end up looking like you." Now, that was a true comment. They looked like little china dolls for God's sake. With too rosy cheeks and too thick eyeliner, it was just repulsive and unattractive.

"Yes, well, you can think what you like." Lucinda said as she stood up off the living room chair. She primped her hair carefully, and touched her lips making sure they had the perfect amount of lip gloss.

"Mother," Mariella whined. "We have to leave if we want to get the best beds at the Remmington's mansion."

"Yes, we shall be off. Gwen, go gather your things." Lucinda said. And that was that. I think this is a death sentence. Honest to God. Not only did Devon and I hate each other's guts, we also couldn't be in the same room for more then five minutes with out breaking into an argument. We've hated each other since diapers. As they say, Evil doesn't die so easily. I guess neither does Hate.

"Okay, girls, I am Lillian Remmington, Devon's mother." An elegant elderly woman stood in front of the twenty five of us girls on the large staircase. "Now, you are all here for my son. I expect you to treat him with love and respect, since I know he will all do the same to you. There will be minimal drama, and if you start something big, I will have you thrown out immediately. Understood?"

"Yes, Mrs. Remmington." An echo of polite, high octave voices rang through the wide pristine white hallways. See, they sounded polite. Were they really? Of course not. They were just girls who wanted to either do Devon or get their greedy paws on his money. I have seen it all before, as in to say that I know from experience.

"And now, my handsome son, Devon." Lillian made an elegant gesture towards the top of the hall, and then out walked Devon. He looked good, as usual. His mop of brown, dirty blonde hair hung loosely around his head, and his huge ice cold blue eyes scanned the crowds of girls. A symphony of 'Oh my God, he is so hot' and 'He's gorgeous' echoed around the room, bringing an arrogant smile to his lips.

"Hello, ladies," Devon smiled politely, his dimples showing. "I hope you find it comfortable here." Then, Devon's eyes stared at mine, and a scowl rose to his lips. I saw him whisper something to his mother, and she gave a slight smile. Soon after, he disappeared up into his room once again. I felt a lump constrict in my throat. Shit, I thought, If I get kicked out right away, Lucinda will eat me alive. Literally.

"You have to excuse my son, he's just a little- flustered. Dinner is at exactly 6 o'clock, and be on time, dressed in semi formal attire. No jeans. Our house keeper, Kayla, will show you to your rooms." Lillian looked over at a blonde girl of about the age of nineteen, and I presumed her to be Kayla.

But why would a girl of such young age work here? Ah, well, I guess I'll just have to figure that out later.

We all followed Kayla up the stairs and into two extremely large bedrooms. And when I say large I mean large. They've got to bigger then the first whole story of my house. Anyway, in each room, there were twenty day beds and a dresser with each. Pink (gags slightly) comforters with flowered pillows covered each bed.

"Pick a bed, if you need anything, just ask for me." Kayla said quietly, and with that, she left. I picked a bed closest to one of the windows. I unpacked my things.

"Um, Kayla," I called.

I saw her blonde head pop out, "Hi."

"I'm Gwen." I said pitifully. "Can you tell me where the bathroom is?"

"Down there, but all the other girls will be fighting over it." She smiled, then whispered, "There is one down the hallway, by Devon's room. Use that one. No one will use it."

I gave a quick laugh. "Thanks. By the way, nice shoes." I told her, complimenting her bright green sneakers.

"Thanks." She returned with a smile.

I headed down the hallway with a torn jean skirt since we weren't allowed to wear jeans-which is just rediculous. I opened the door slightly, and peered inside. Phew, no other girls. I shut the door behind me and started changing, slipping off my sneakers and pulling off my jeans one leg at time.

The door creaked open, and I jumped up- in my under wear might I add- and looked at door. Devon Remmington stood there in surprise, but a embarrassed smile came across his lips.

"Get the hell out of here!" I screamed at him, my face turning beat red. Especially since they were my Happy Bunny underwear. You know, the smart ass rabbit?

"Make me, Gwen." A small smug smile played across his lips.

"You bastard! Get out! I'm trying to change." I grabbed a towel and covered up my Happy Bunny undies.

"Fine, I'll see you at dinner Happy Bunny." He winked and walked out of the bathroom.

That Bastard.

A/N: Okay, well here is the first chapter. I'm writing for the HITS contest, and reviews are highly appreciated.


Has A WaywithWords