Chapter Text
You stared at the letter in your hands, grinding your teeth as your tight fists threatened to destroy the paper. Another job rejection letter, the third one of the week. This one was from Sandy Shores medical center, the closest hospital to your new home here in Blaine County. 'Move to America, there's more opportunities for budding medical professionals over there', or so you thought when you were still living in your childhood family home back in England. You were so happy when you graduated from medical school, and finally felt that your life had gained some kind of direction, you were ready to take on whatever life threw at you to earn the long desired title of Doctor (surname). But that was five years ago now, and your dream career still seemed just as far away, if not further.
You'd been living here in Sandy Shores for a month now, just scraping by on the savings you had left over from 5 years worth of temporary work, Sandy Shores wasn't exactly the heart of Los Santos but it was a start, and it was reletavely cheap so it worked for you. Your home was a simple trailer, not much, but you tried to keep it looking nice and tidy, even if the rest of the neighbourhood didn't seem to put in as much effort as you did.
You sighed and screwed up the rejection letter and threw it at the bin, and to your annoyance missed, so had to get up from the small wooden plank drilled to the wall that acted as your dining room table to dispose of it. You grabbed your handbag off the kitchen counter and made your way outside into the dessert that served as your home. The sun was baking, you never felt heat like this back in England, and it made you feel more far from home than ever. You dragged your feet as you made your way to the convenience store that was a short ways from your trailer.
As you approached the stores entrance, a tall and slightly meanicing looking man held the door for you and allowed you to enter first.
"After you, Sweetheart." he said, his voice reminiscent of an accent not from around here. You soon recognised it as being Canadian.
"Thank you." you nodded politely and smiled briefly at the man as you passed him.
The air conditioning cooled your skin and you sighed happily at the relief from the heat as you made your way to the back of the store where the refrigerators were. You looked around for the lemonaid, you found it soon enough and grabbed yourself a can. As you approached the tills, you saw that same man holding a six pack of beer, seemingly having some sort of disagreement with the clerk.
"Put this on my tab like usual, yeah?" He spoke quietly.
"I'm sorry sir, but I can't keep doing that... You haven't paid for anything in almost two months! Business isn't as good as it used to be and I'm starting to get worried." The clerk said nervously, the poor guy seemed terrified.
"Oh really? Well ain't that a fucking shame... Let me grab my wallet," the man in front of you lifted the hem of his white shirt slightly, you froze at what you saw, and so did the clerk. And just as suddenly as it was revealed, the gun tucked into the hem of the mans faded jeans was hidden again by the white material of his shirt.
"Is this a change of heart I'm sensing?" He asked in a mocking manner.
The clerk nodded, seemingly too scared to talk.
"Good. Have a nice day." he said, grinning and waving overzealously, his overly polite demeaner making him seem only more threatening. As he turned to leave he caught sight of you and paused for a moment, your breath caught in your throat.
"You're new," he breathed, pointing at you, when you didn't respond he continued "I haven't seen you around dusty old Sandy Shores before."
"Uh, yeah... I just moved here." you swallowed nervously, honestly fearing for your life having never been in this sort of situation before.
"Nice accent," he grinned at you with this dirty, perverted look, "It's sexy." He took a step closer to you, and you wanted to cower away but couldn't will your body to move.
"You ain't too bad on the eyes either. What's your name, sweetheart?" You watched as his eyes roamed mercilessly over your body, lingering over your most feminine assets. You could tell by the hungry look on his face that he was mentally undressing you, which made you squirm uncomfortably.
"Um, its (name)..." You told him hesitantly.
"A pretty name for a pretty lady... Welcome to Sandy Shores, Sweetheart. I hope to see you around more often." He winked at you before turning to leave the store. As the door closed behind him, you realised you had been holding in your breath and promptly exhaled, feeling the tension in the room drain almost immediately.
You turned to the clerk to pay for your lemonade and asked quietly, "Who the hell was that guy?"
The clerks voice shook with a combination of what seemed like fear and anger, "That's Trevor Philips... And he's a fucking psychopath."