A/N: There will be 8 parts to this short story. This piece was written when I was in grade 9 so please don't pay any mind to the typos, syntax errors or naivety!

I awoke on the living room floor. I lifted my head up off of the orange tinted floorboards and hastily wiped the drool off of my face with my sleeve, hoping no one saw me sleeping. Pulling a strand of my hair out of my mouth, I willed myself to sit up, my lazy limbs failing me as they give way and my back crashes down onto the hard, unforgiving floor. Ow. I glanced at the luxurious living room from where I was laying and sighed. I still have so much work to do.

The smell of detergent filled my nose and I tried not to gag. I'm surprised that my nose isn't immune to the strong scent by now, considering how long I have been cleaning for.

Struggling to get up off of the floor, I fell into the cream coloured wall which was nearby. I looked for any dents in the wall from my rather large head and sighed in relief as I saw the wall was fine. I can do many things, but fixing a wall is way too complicated for me to even think about, yet alone actually do.

My eyesight went blurry and I blinked a couple of times, willing my eyes to wake up so I can finish my chores before Monique got home. Once my clear sight returned, I walked over to the dark dining table and started to rearrange the bright pink lilies I brought from the florist earlier this morning. I snuffed the smell out of the flowers, hoping to get the bitter smell of cleaning supplies out of my nose.

I glanced up at all of the dusty windows I had to clean and frowned. Why did the Devil want so many windows in her mansion of a house?

Picking up an empty bucket, I walked over to the stainless steel sink and turned the faucet on, letting the fast, warm water rush into the bucket. Emptying the bottle of window cleaner as I poured it in with the water, I made a mental note to go to the shops and buy some more. Chucking the bottle in the bin that I still needed to empty, I picked up a cloth from the cream cupboard underneath the sink and walked to the windows.

There's only two things that comes from cleaning windows. One: you get to see the amazingly beautiful view of the lush trees and colourful flowers in the neighbour's front gardens. Two: it is a great activity to take up your past time while you reassess the value of your life.

"Xenia!" I groaned at my name being called by the Mini Devil. "Clean my room!" I sighed as I already knew that I was going to be yelled at either way. Monique would yell at me because I didn't clean the windows, and Liesel would yell at me because I didn't clean her room. Who would I rather face? Decided, I kept cleaning the windows. I'd take getting yelled at by the Mini Devil than the Devil any day. "Xenia!" I ignored Liesel's calls.

"Oh, shut up Liesel!" I heard a voice from the hallway and I immediately smiled. Patricia is my personal Guardian Angel, looking out for me and sticking by me when keeping up with both school and housework is too much. The best thing about her, though, is that she doesn't take crap.
From anybody.

I turned my head at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs which led up to the bedrooms and bathrooms. Pat's long red hair was twisted up into a bun; little fly away hairs were escaping the constriction. Her bright blue eyes gleamed with freshness. "Hey," she greeted, her smooth voice reverberated throughout the high ceilings.

"Hey." I smiled back. Pat was the only person keeping me sane in this hellhole.

"Need any help?" she asked, and before she could grab a bucket I replied sternly.

"No." She looked at me, a frown making its way on her pale face. "You know what the Devil will do if she finds you helping me."

Pat just shrugged, dismissing my statement altogether. "What can I do?" she asked, picking up a bucket against my attempts to stop her. I groaned, wondering if I should let her help. "Come on!: she pleaded, "If we do it together, it will get done faster and then we'll have more time to ourselves." she explained, "Let me help!"

I sighed, giving in. Another quality of Pat's: she will make you agree with her, no matter how much you are against the idea.

Cleaning the windows, kitchen and living room in half the time that I usually would, we moved on to the Devil's bedroom. I opened the door and stared, my mouth agape. "This woman must love me!" I exclaimed.

"I think you have got the words 'love' and 'hate' swapped around in your head." Pat looked at me, smirking. We looked back to the room, wondering what to do. "Well, she left you a present that money can't buy." Pat said, amused.

I laughed, "I don't think this is a present that I want to keep." To say it nicely, it looked like a tornado, tsunami and earthquake hit the room simultaneously. Oh, and don't forget the compost bin which Monique loves using. The only problem is that there is no compost bin. Pat went to step inside of the room. "Wait," I said, holding my hand out to stop her. Grabbing my phone I started to take some pictures.

"What are you doing?" Pat asked, a smile playing on her face.

"I am going to do a before and after." Once I took photos of the grottiest things in the room, I moved towards the bathroom suite and gasped. Monique has never been this disgusting. Ever.

Makeup stood out like a deer in headlights against the white, smooth basin. Hair brushes, riddled with blonde hair were left lying around, some on the basin and some which were soon found on the floor by me stepping on the hard, plastic bristles. I shrieked. Picking up the hairbrush, i placed it on the basin and looked down. Hair was stuck in the drain.

"Oh my god." Patricia breathed. "I never knew my mother was so messy!" she paused, inhaling a deep breath only for her cough harshly, "Or smelly." she added, blocking her nose with her index finger and thumb.

"Dibs not it!" I called.

"Aw, what? You can't do that!" her pinched nose made her voice sound like one of those talking Chipmunks that can unsurprisingly sing.

"It's the safest option." I stated, "If one of the two Devils came into the room, they wouldn't see you."

"Okay." She sighed. I smiled, it seems that I have the persuasion quality as well! I walked over to the door, figuring out a plan on how I'm going to sort through the mess. I sighed, realizing that there is no other way to do it than just pick it all up.

"I think a rat died in here." Pat called from the bathroom, "It stinks like no man's business." I chuckled as she continued on, "And speaking about business." She paused before going all mental on me, "My mother didn't flush the freaking toilet!" I laughed. "No, it's not funny!" she said, turning towards me, "It is freaking disgusting!" Pat's face was filled with disgust. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. "She goes on about us not flushing the toilet, and she goes ahead and does it as well!" I couldn't stop laughing. "Talk about hypocrite."

I was chuckling as I cleaned the room. She really is an Angel... A disgusted Angel.

"Xenia! Xenia!" My name was being shouted throughout the hallway. I couldn't tell what Devil was calling me.

"Yes?" I called back, my ears resembling one of a ringing telephone.

Monique appeared in the doorway, and immediately my back went straight and I can assume that I looked like a startled pigeon, ready to fly away from the frightening thing that scared me. "Oh. You're in here." Monique quietened her voice, but not by much, "I was about to tell you to do my hair." I smiled obligingly, noting that she said it in a demanding manner and didn't ask politely. Oh! Who am I kidding? She never does that anyway!

"Sure, let me just put this in the bathroom." I said, gesturing to the make-up bag I was picking up off of the floor when Monique came storming in. Placing the bag on the semi-clean basin I whisper-shouted a 'Hide!' to Patricia, who was in fact, already hiding in the bath tub, the pink waterproof curtains drawn tightly around the porcelain structure.

"What did you say?" Monique asked from the bedroom.

"Uh," I stalled. What the hell do I say, now? "How would you like your hair?" I asked, surprisingly calm.

"Surprise me." She said in a tone that meant, if you're not going to do it perfectly, don't do it at all.

"Okay," I said warily. I hate it when she puts me on the spot like this. Grabbing the curling iron, a comb and a hair brush, I stopped in the bathroom doorway glancing over to Monique who was already at the dresser, in front of a mirror, sitting down and waiting.

I saw the Devil scowling at the wrinkles in her forehead and the tiredness in her hard, blue eyes. Monique pulled her finger through her hair and frowned at the grays sprouting. "Xenia, hurry up!" Monique yelled, agitation weaving it's way into her tired voice. I heard Monique sigh as I appeared behind her in the mirror. "Have you seen that wretch across the road?"

"Which one?" I asked, knowing that Monique called everyone on the street a 'wretch'.

"That Goober-socks woman."

I frowned at the name. The nice, old lady across the road, Ms. Hooverfoth, wears odd socks most of the time because she can never find the other one. After talking to the lady across the street, I've noticed that she's at the point of her life where she doesn't care what she wears, she only stays inside watching her favourite TV shows, and imagines that her late husband, Arthur, is sitting across from her at the dining table. "No, I haven't seen her lately." I stated.

"Oh. Well the recluse came out of her cage to get her newspaper yesterday morning. Guess what she was wearing?"

I sighed, busying myself with curling Monique's hair. I knew that the only way for Monique to get over this subject is to ask her the questions that she wants to hear. "What?"

"She was wearing the most hideous night gown I've ever seen. It didn't even have lace on it. And let me tell you, white is definitely not her colour."

After an hour of listening to the Devil ramble on about Ms. Cheng, Mrs. Hamble and Mr. Straighton - all nice people, I must add - I finished her hair.

"This is actually okay. I thought I was going to have to sit here for another two hours telling you what to do." Monique said surprised. She then stood up and walked out of her room without a 'thank you' or an actual compliment.

Patricia came out of her hiding place, "I never realized how much of a-" Patricia was interrupted.

"Oh, and Xenia!" Monique yelled as she was coming up the stairs again. Pat ran into the bathroom and accidentally knocked the makeup which was on the basin, on to the floor. I quickly ran to the bathroom, picked up the thankfully plastic bottle and started to wipe up the tan liquid off of the cold, white tiles. Monique came walking in. "Xenia?" she asked, looking around the room for me.

"Yes, Aunt Monique?" I answered, as I stood up.

"Firstly, why is there makeup smeared on my floor?"

Why is your room such a mess? "Oh, um... I knocked it off of the bench." I lied.

"Clumsy girl!" Monique exclaimed disapprovingly. "I want you to clean up my bedroom and Liesel's bedroom. Your bedroom should be clean anyway." She ordered.

"Yes, Aunt." I sighed.

When Monique left the room, I cleaned up the remnants of the tan liquid and walked into the bedroom, picking up the clothes from the floor. "Is she gone?" Pat asked in a whisper as she peered out behind the shower curtains.

"Yes." I replied, smiling at Pat.

"Sorry about the makeup."

"Nah," I waved my hand dismissively at her, "you would've done the same."

As Patricia cleaned the bathroom - wiping out the basin and cleaning the toilet with the rather disgusting surprise - I picked up the clothes and started to decipher which ones were clean and which ones were dirty.

After vacuuming the plush pink carpet, I looked over at the quilt cover and grimaced. I could barely walk over to the bed without gagging at the smell. It smelt worse than detergent, and that's gotta mean something.

The cover was riddled with food stains and other stains which I really didn't want to identify. Willing my nose to try and block out the smell or at least get used to it, I changed the cover.

Monique always complained about having a blocked nose. Now I'm complaining why I don't have one. "Next time, I am going to bring nose plugs." I called to Pat.

She giggled, "Me too."

Unceremoniously dumping the dirty sheets into the washing basket which held all of the dirty clothes, I walked out of the room and towards the laundry, telling Pat what I'm doing on the way out.