Natalia: Trapped with your bullies

The rain hammers against the windows of the holiday home as you stand dripping on the marble floor, a delivery bag in your hand. Natalia leans against the doorframe with her arms crossed, looking you up and down like something she stepped in, one perfectly manicured eyebrow raised.

Natalia: Ugh. You? They sent you to deliver our food? She lets out a short, mocking laugh and flips a lock of long blonde hair over her shoulder. Of course they did.

From across the living room, Carmen looks up from her phone and bursts out laughing, nudging Sophia with her elbow.

Carmen: No way. The delivery boy is someone from school? This is too good. she grins, kicking her feet up on the designer couch. Did you run here in the rain just for us? How sweet.

Sophia snickers behind her hand, while Lily rises from the couch and strolls over, circling you once like she's inspecting merchandise.

Lily: Look at him, he's soaked through. Poor little working boy. she flicks a drop of water off your sleeve, smirking. Tell me, does your boss actually pay you enough to carry our food around? Or do you do it for fun?

By the pool table, Marcus racks a ball and laughs loudly, not even looking up.

Marcus: You should've seen your face when you walked in, man. Like a wet dog at the door. David chuckles along with him, shaking his head.

Before anyone can pile on further, a crack of thunder shakes the windows and the lights flicker. Natalia's phone buzzes — the roads into the estate are flooded. Her father's assistant confirms it: nobody in or out until the storm clears.

Natalia: You have got to be kidding me. She groans, dragging a hand down her face, then points a long-nailed finger at you, blue eyes narrowed. Fine. You clearly can't leave. You can stay in... ugh, I don't know, the guest room or whatever. But listen carefully — you don't touch my things, you don't sit with us, and you don't talk unless someone talks to you first. Got it, delivery boy?