A/N: Hey my lovely readers. I've just been inspired lately, which is why I keep bringing in the stories.:) This story is going to be AU. As always. hehe. Its going to be dark. Please give it a chance, I think you'll like it. Enjoy:)

Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi.

The Dark world of Modelling

(Clares POV)

When I walk down this runway, people think I look beautiful. That I'm the most amazing model in L.A. That I'm happy to have this amazing opportunity. Ha. They don't know that behind these blue eyes and white pale face is someone broken. Something that holds dark secrets. I don't like this life. I didn't want this. All I wanted was to become a writer, and be a best-selling author. But no. Fate had other plans. I had to meet up with my sleazy and greasy agent-Drew Torrez. Seducing me in to the modelling world with its glitz and glamour. Me being naïve thought it would be a good opportunity and could help me with money and university. I didn't know I would be stuck here. Modelling is not glitz and glamour; it's a total nightmare, that I can't go get out of. People think there is a hell, their wrong, because their living in it right now. Life is hell. Life is a constant pull that sucks you in to a black hole. There's no way out.

I walk down the long catwalk with determination. I block out the blinding white flashes coming from the photographers seated in the front row or sidelines. I feel like my head is going to explode but I don't show it. I just want to scream at the top of my lungs to get away from this torture, but I don't do it. I wouldn't want Drew to be disappointed in me. Yeck. I remember the first day I met him. Incredibly in awe at how successful and good-looking he was. When he chose me to be his model, I felt special. Belonged. I've never felt special and belonged in my whole life. My parents always chose my perfect older sister Darcy over me.

Though when I was introduced to this so-called amazing world, I didn't know there would be glitches. One being Drew making me fuck famous photographers; so I could be on a front cover or make more money. I didn't want to do it. I told him no. But he didn't take no for an answer. He told me he would ruin me. He reminded me how I was nothing before I met him and I could easily go back to being nothing. He also has something on me that could never get out to the press. As much as I wanted to leave, I couldn't. He would go against me and ruin me. I knew he would.

Even though almost every part of me hates doing this. There is a small part of me that wants to be good enough. To make people think I'm worth looking at. To feel beautiful. I know I'll never be good enough. So I ask myself every night when I'm throwing up my guts every night in the bathroom. Why me?

No one knows about my late night purges. No one will ever no. I look at my self and see a disgusting slut and failure in life. When tears fall down my eyes, I swipe at them angrily. I will not be weak. I have to get through this. I need to survive. I will survive.

As soon as I finish walking down the cat walk I bolt to my dressing room. I strip out of the silky short sequin and instantly put on my blue skinny jeans, floral top and black flats. I walk to my vanity and sit on a chair. I wipe all the make up off with force. Trying to cleanse my skin but its no use. I still feel the gunk inside my skin, all over, not coming off. I look at myself in the mirror. Feeling my eyes stinging with tears. I will not here. You have to get through this. You've been doing this for two years, don't give in now. My thoughts were interrupted with a knock on my dressing room door. Before I could answer. Drew barged in with a smug smile on his face that made me want to gag. He was wearing a tacky white blazer with black trousers and pimp shoes. His whole presence yelled: SLIMBALL

"What do you want!" I snapped.

He strolled his way toward me and put his hands on my shoulders, looking at ourselves in the mirror, leaning in to my ear.

"You were magnificent tonight babe." He whispered lowly, smiling at his reflection.

I shrugged my hands off his shoulders. "What did I say about you calling me babe and touching me?" I said angrily.

He leaned in closer, right near my cheek. He smelled heavy with alcohol. No need to purge, all I need is Drew's nauseating stench near me and I could puke up a week's worth of food. He smiled mockingly. His blue yes glistening with amusement. I looked away.

"I love it when you get all nasty, makes me all hot." He whispered seductively. "I need you to go out tonight…I've got some unfinished…business." He said slimily.

I snapped my head back, making him stumble. He stands up straight and I glare up at him.

"No." I stated firmly. "I will not do any favours tonight. I'm going home." I started to grab my bag beside my feet, on the floor, when a hard grip on my wrist stopped me. I look back to see Drew wearing a face of utter hatred.

"Yes you will. This client is very important to us and I won't let you ruin our chances of earning more money and getting you more exposure." His voice was full of venom to poison an animal.

His grip was turning bruising and I immediately pried him off. He let go of my wrist and I rubbed it numerous times. I gave him a cold look.

"Listen. First of all there is no "us" ," I gestured between us. "in your little business. And I don't want anymore exposure!" I snapped with equal venom dripping from my voice.

He smiled. Though it there was nothing nice about it. He leans down to my eye level and plants a hard rough kiss on my cheek. Before I could slap him, he stood up straight again. I rubbed my cheek relentlessly until it turned red.

"Don't. Ever. Touch. Me. Again." I said firmly.

He turned towards my door and opened it and stopped to look back at me saying,

"Have fun tonight sweet cheeks, I'll see you tomorrow." He kissed the air and exited my room.

I sighed heavily and closed my eyes. Trying to calm my nerves down. I grabbed my bag and left the dressing room.

I drove down the dark streets of L.A. As soon as I pulled up to my destination, I stopped the car and sat there for a minute. Debating whether I should make a run for it or proceed. Every time before I visit a client, I have this constant debate in my head. I always proceed. I always will.

I sigh shakily and get out of the car and make my way to the shady house in front of me. I knock a few times before someone answers. The door opens to a built man in his early 20s with a bottle of champagne in his hand. He smirks at me. His dark brown spiky hair sticks in the night. He smells of cigarettes and alcohol. Yuck.

"You must be Clare, I'm Mark Fitzgerald, but you can call me Fitz. Come in." He said in a husky voice.

I manage a weak smile and step inside. The house is too dark for me to see anything, but I didn't care, I just wanted to get this done and over with and get the hell out of here. To speed things up I try to manage my best approach. I put my hand on his chest, touching the buttons on his shirt. I look up at him.

"Where's your bedroom." I whisper in my best seductive voice. He looks down at his shirt and back up, his eyes suddenly turned dark.

"Up here." He grabbed my hand and pulled me upstairs to the second door on the right. He pulls me inside and I instantly kiss him. Feeling dirty inside, I kiss him more fervently. He drops the champagne on the floor and instantly wraps his arms around me. His mouth tasted awful, like the after taste of diet pop. I broke the kiss and he started kissing down my neck. I look blankly at his bed and let a tear slide down my cheek. I can't hold back the tears any longer, so I let them fall, along with my dignity.

I stared up at the ceiling. Wondering what I did to deserve this. I've always been the good Christian girl, with the perfect parents and the perfect sister. We were the perfect family portrait. But somewhere during this shell of perfectness, everything was falling apart. I was blind during the process. Until my sister was raped, my parents were divorced and I was a model/prostitute.

I felt disgusted with myself, for letting this happen to me. I feel cheap and worthless. I turned to my left to see Fitz sleeping with the covers over his waist. His chest exposed. The moon from the outside reflecting on his stomach through the window. I suddenly felt cold. I quickly but silently got out from under the covers and off the bed. I grabbed my clothes, quickly got dressed and ran out the door. When I entered my car, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I put the keys in the ignition and bolted out of the drive way.

When I reached my house, it was after 2 in the morning. I was exhausted. I just wanted to take a nice hot shower and sleep. When I entered the house I put my keys and bag on the table beside the doorway and went straight upstairs for the bathroom. I sat on the cold tile floors and put two fingers down my throat, releasing the contents that was in my stomach from the whole day. Once I was finished, I flushed the toilet and got up and turned on the shower water. After I was done, I went to my room and collapsed on the bed. Sleep over powering me in a matter of seconds.

I awoke to the sound of my annoying alarm blaring through my room and echoing through the house. I groan and look over to see its 7:00 in the morning. Great Clare. Only 4 hours of sleep. You know I think that's a new record. I lazily get out of bed and head to the shower.

After getting ready and eating breakfast I left my house wearing a yellow flowy top with a grey cardigan and blue denim shorts with strappy sandals. I drove to the modelling studio also known as FIDM: Fashion Industry Driven Models. The name is stupid if you ask me. I soon come up to the big 20 story building and park in my reserved parking spot. The catwalk is inside the studio, attached to it. I entered the front lobby and see Jenna Middleton: the secretary, talking to a tall guy with dark brown-almost black hair, wearing all black, leaning against the long desk. By the glint in Jenna's eyes and flirty smile, I could tell she was flirting. The guy stepped back almost instantly and Jenna's smile faltered. I smirked. I never really like Jenna, she was too fake and a wannabe. Though who am I to judge? I walked towards her and stopped beside the guy clad in black and looked straight at her. Avoiding the wandering eyes of the stranger.

"Hey Jenna, is Drew in yet?" I could feel the strangers eyes burning through me as he scanned up and down my body. Jenna seemed to notice this and frowned slightly. She was about to answer when she was interrupted by the dark stranger.

"Excuse me, but I was finding instructions on who I'm supposed to see." His voice was deep, inviting.

I turned towards him and saw the most breathtaking green eyes I've ever seen. His cheek bones were perfect, his brownish-black hair fell loosely as bangs over his forehead. His mouth was slanted in to a smirk. He was absolutely gorgeous.

"Well, I'm just trying to see if my boss is in." I noted confidently.

He arched an eyebrow. A sexy one at that and raked his eyes once again down my body, his eyes were travelling agonizingly slow, making me shiver slightly. Once he made it back to my eyes he said,

"Sorry, go ahead." He motioned to Jenna.

I looked towards Jenna waiting for an answer. She shook her head.

"He's not in yet." She said nervously.

"Bastard." I murmured, looking away. I turned back to Jenna. "Okay tell him, I'll be in my dressing room when he comes in." I stalked off before I could get a response and past the stranger, avoiding eye-contact.

That man was incredibly….. sexy, breath-taking, a god…..the list goes on. But I can't focus on that. I have to get my money from Drew. Fitz paid Drew already before I slept with him. I have to worry about this, before I can think about any guys.