Evan Peters Imagines and One Shots

Trapped- James P. March

"Don't forget to press the shirts," Miss Evers instructed, "You know how Mr.March is about wrinkles."

"Already one step ahead of you," I answered.

I began working for the hotel five months ago after I saw a help wanted sign, and I couldn't turn down the offer. I could never even afford to stay here for one night, but with the perks of the job having live-in staff, I was more than grateful for the opportunity. I couldn't lie, though my expectations were more than what was true. I'd assumed there'd be more staff- only to realize there was only one other worker, Miss Evers, as she welcomed me with open arms and cleaning supplies. She introduced me to the hotel's owner, James Patrick March. He was a dashing man and well put together- the man radiated wealth, and I felt like a peasant in his presence, but to my surprise, he was more than a gentleman. He greeted me with virtue and even helped me bring my bags into my room.

When Miss Evers described him, I was scared to meet him. My feelings quickly changed as he locked eyes with mine. He welcomed me with a smile- even Miss Evers was surprised. Nothing about him made me see him as a lunatic until my orientation. James had instructed me to lure a man into one of the rooms. I did what was asked because he was my boss, but the other man had an ulterior motive. Before anything terrible could occur, Mr. March exited the bathroom and gutted him like a fish. He apologized for putting me in harm's way and promised not to do that again. I assumed I would be the next victim, but James assured me that I was safe and that no one would touch me, not as long as he was around- he was confident of it.

"Wonderful," she praised, "What about the linens? Have they been washed, dried, and folded?"

"All except one," I admitted, "I know I said I had it, but I need your assistance. It's badly smeared."

"Bloodstain, I'm presuming," she chuckled.

"As always," I sighed, "How do you do it, Miss Evers? You get the sheets squeaky clean."

"Elbow grease, Y/n," she responded, "And occasionally, it doesn't hurt to add a little more bleach or baking soda- hand it over, and I'll show you."

"Mrs. Evers and Miss L/n," James greeted as he swaggered into the room, "How are my favorite ladies doing today?"

"We are wonderful, Mr. March," Ms. Evers responded, "We've finished cleaning the linens two hours earlier than expected. Isn't that right, Miss L/n?"

"Absolutely," I replied.

"Splendid," Mr. March praised, "That's exhilarating to hear because I have significant news. One of Hollywood's most beloved couples plans to spend a few nights at the hotel, and I require you two to make this place as pristine as can be. Guests will gather to see them, and our clientele will increase immensely- and more prey will roam. "

"And when they arrive, you must treat them with the utmost respect," a voice interrupted from the other room.

Elizabeth strolled in as eccentric as ever. No matter where she was, she made sure she was being seen. Hate was a strong word... I was not 'too fond' of Elizabeth- from the moment I met her, she was excessively pretentious and acted as if her shit smelt like fresh homemade apple pie. I cleanse the toilets after she uses them, and I can confirm that no apple pie has left her body.

"I know these two visitors personally," She bragged, "So if there is even such a spot in their room, you will be dealt with by me."

Miss Evers and I shared a glance before we returned to our work. Even with an age gap, Miss Evers and I got along pretty well. Though if there's one thing we most definitely agreed on, it would be our disdain for Elizabeth as she would constantly come down here and mock us for having jobs while spending all of James' money without having to lift a finger for him. We would attempt to ignore her as much as we could. Eventually, she would wander off the boast elsewhere. We didn't understand what he saw in her, but who were we to say anything we were 'merely the help' as Elizabeth would say.