A/N: Believe me, it even sickens me that I've started all these stories and not finished them. It's my August Resolution that I will work harder with my stories! For now, I just recently saw the movie and had the idea for a fanfic. Hope y'all don't mind! Don't mind the fact that Sandy should be a boy, but I made her a girl. Just felt she flowed more as a, well, as a she.
[Setting: Hill House…]
"Sandy?" Mr. Boddy called. "Sandy?" He then noticed Yvette Van Sant, the French foreign exchange student at Sandy's high school that he had made his maid, dusting an old picture frame. "Yvette, do you know where Sandy is?"
She shook her head and shrugged.
He stormed into the kitchen, where Suki Ho, one of the finest chefs in the country, was chopping carrots. Mrs. Ho had only accepted the offer of working at Hill House because of reasons she wouldn't disclose, only saying that she had an "agreement" with Mr. Boddy. She had to leave her husband and kids behind to work there, however.
"Mrs. Ho, have you seen Sandy?" He growled, irritated.
"No, but if she's anywhere here, she's upstairs with those damn figurines." Mrs. Ho sighed.
Mr. Boddy stormed over to the stairs. "Alessandra Wadsworth, if you don't come down here, I swear I'll put a gun to your head!"
"Sheesh!" Sandy Wadsworth ran downstairs. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Mr. B!"
"Are you giving me attitude?"
She snorted her loud trademark snort that annoyed the hell out of everyone. "What the hell kind of question is that?"
"Now you listen and you listen good." He leaned in close to her. "If it wasn't for how much that imbecilic father of yours loved you, I'd have killed you that very night too. Don't make me reconsider our deal tonight. Do you understand me?"
She nodded fearfully.
"Yvette, fix me a drink."
Yvette nodded and went off to do so.
"Well, why did you ask for me, Mr. Boddy?" Sandy inquired.
He sighed, receiving his drunk. "Alessandra," he put his arm around her, led her to the lounge, and sat her down, "you are a smart sixteen-year-old girl who I've raised like my own daughter, so you'll—"
"That is where I draw the line!" She stood up angrily. "You didn't 'raise me,' my father did, and if it wasn't for your damn blackmail, he'd still be with me today!"
"What the hell did I tell you?" He threw the glass against the wall. It smashed into a thousand pieces. Sandy sat down quietly. "Now I know you'll understand what I do and why I do it."
"You blackmail and you do it because it makes you superior. That I know."
"How did you know that?"
"You said I was smart, did you not?"
"And did you not think that I would catch onto your little games in all my time working here? That it was what you did to my very father?"
Mr. Boddy gave her a menacing look.
"Hear me out!" She gripped the arm of the couch. "I know that you blackmailed my mother and father. She committed suicide and you continued to enslave my father, only to kill him one night. You kept me because of my father's last request and because you needed someone else to push around. Am I not correct?"
"You are, Sandy." He smirked. "And I'll never underestimate you. Because you're going to help me."
"You will, because you're my source. There are some students at your very high school whose parents I've been blackmailing for a long time. You're going to spy on them, gather as much information on them and their, er, flaws as you can."
"And if I don't?"
He scowled at her, getting in her face. "Well, let's say that if you don't, you'll be seeing your father soon. Very soon."
Sandy gulped. "At least let me think about it."
"I'd better be hearing a yes from you soon. Now go upstairs."
She nodded, scurrying upstairs.
[Setting: Hill House – Sandy's Bedroom…]
The Pegasus. The tiger. The crane. The pelican.
Sandy stared into the see-through figurines. She used the money she'd get from outside sources – since she certainly didn't get any money from Mr. Boddy – to buy glass figurines of animals when she was younger. They comforted her. Her very own glass menagerie, so to say.
She flopped down sadly on her bed. She'd been up in her room for five hours, weighing the pros and cons of assisting blackmail. She had also been planning an intricate escape plan should she not choose to accept the offer and she was sure it would work.
Two hours ago, Mr. Boddy had sipped a folder underneath her door. Inside I was a list of people that she was to spy on.
Sandy read the list again. Mitzi Peacock. Loretta Scarlet. Jonah Green. Howard Plum. Tatyana White. Quentin Mustard.
She didn't like any of these people. Then again, she didn't have any personal vendettas against them either.
Sandy got up off her bed, took in a deep breath, and opened the door, ready to go downstairs. She had made her decision.