Closer Than A Look, chapter 1
Sitting in an almost empty coffee shop in the middle of France, was a pale sandy haired girl. There's depressing music in the background as she sites alone sipping her coffee.
"Hey," said the busboy, "It's closing time." Silently the girl gathered her tattered backpack and left. She walked down the street to a run down apartment complex. There she saw a dark figure standing outside the entrance. The stranger had reddish-brownish hair, his eyes were starring blankly at the ground that he didn't even notice the pale girl walk up to him.
"Pierre," she said stiffly, "what are you doing here?"
"I love you! I can't stand living without you." he said grabbing her arms, "I'm sorry, please can we just--"
"No, Pierre, we can't just talk this over. You left us! You made a choice, and that was to leave us. So, just, just go away," she pushed past him and went inside. How could she love someone that had hurt her so many times? How could he think that she would take him back, after what he did? She quietly tip-toed to her room, making sure not to wake her parents up, she opened her window. She looked at the now purple sky and sighed. She wished she could travel to America, leave this god forsaken town once and for all! She sighed again, she knew she couldn't, she didn't have enough money to leave. And her parents wouldn't pay for it, they couldn't afford it. With the thoughts of leaving France, the young girl fell asleep, only to be awakened by a red haired women.
"Angie," yelled the women up the stairs, "Wake up!" Half awake the girl called Angie, slowly got out of bed and headed for a small bucket of water in a dark corner of her bedroom. She washed her face and looked into the broken mirror next to it. She wanted to see someone worth wild starring back at her, but instead she saw herself, a worthless street rat.
'What's the point in dreaming? I'm never going to be able to leave,' she thought. With that in her mind she got dressed; a plain black tank-top, a pair of jeans, and black sandals. Her friend Olivia, a very beautiful and wealthy American girl, had given her some of her make-up; black eye-liner, red lipstick, and mascara. She quickly crept past her father's bedroom door and went into the kitchen. It wasn't much, just a small refrigerator with a stove that didn't work and a table shoved into the corner. Sitting at the table was the red haired women and a girl with brown hair, maybe fourteen or fifteen. The red haired lady was feeding a baby.
"Good morning darling," the women said. Angie grunted as her response and then sat next to the brown haired girl.
"Angie," the brown haired girl said, "I saw you talking to Pierre last night."
The red haired lady, Angie's mom, looked at her,
"You know he's not allowed here," the girl continued.
"It's not like I asked him to come," she explained, returning the look, "why would I want the little fucker over here?"
"I don't know, I was just saying." then the brown haired girl, whose name is Claire, grabbed her jacket and went outside.
"I think Leo needs a bath," Angie's mother said. She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and wrote a list of things down, "I need you to go and get these at the market. Here's the money." Angie nodded. Her mother left with the baby and Angie sat alone for a while, at least until she heard her Papi's footsteps drag across the floor. That was the signal to go to the market. She put her curly hair into a messy bun and left.
Angie walked down the crowded alleyway, wrapping a huge jacket closer to her. She was always fascinated with the market place. It was filled with interesting things and people. She had met Olivia here... and Pierre. Lost in thought, Angie bumped into a boy with messy jet black hair. He was an American boy. Angie was fascinated by the Americans that visited France, but her Papi hated them.
"A disgrace." he called them. But Angie didn't believe that, she thought that they were interesting people. She loved to watch them interact with someone who could only speak French. She thought it was very amusing.
"Oh, I'm sorry." he said.
"'Ees ok." she said in English.
"Wow, um, you look so familiar."
"I zo? Vell, I know vor a vact zat I 'ave never mez you be 'or," she said trying to speak as clear as possible.
"Hey, um, I don't know, really, where I'm going, Can you help me find this address?" he asked her hopefully.
"Sure." she agreed. She led him to a four star hotel.
"Vell, here iz 'ees," she said.
"Oh, thank you," he said, "Well, I guess I'll see you around."
Yeah, maybe," she said and turned around There was a real chemistry between them. And Angie couldn't help but ask him out.
"Hey, um, mayve ve can 'ee eachot'er." she asked, "Is zare anyzing you are zoing zis week'nd?" At first the boy hesitated, he barley knew this girl.
"No," he stuttered, "but if you want, I mean, if you'd like, we can go out to eat or something. Or you can show me around town, you know, if you'd like too."
She nodded, "I'd love zo!" she said happily. She then gave the boy her phone number, gave him a wink, and left.
By the time she got home her father had just gotten back from work. He was sitting at the small table shoved in the corner. He was just sitting there, staring at the door she had just entered from. Her mother was in the other corner, with her head in her hands. When he spoke his voice was slurred and slow. He was drunk, that was worse then coming home to him angry.
"Angela!" he shouted, his eyes wide and bloodshot, "Pick up these, these damn, damn beer bottles." At first she hesitated, her father was known to do crazy and unpredictable things when he was wasted.
"Now!" he screamed, getting to his feet. Angie jumped and quickly went to pick the bottles up. She accidentally bumped into the table, knocking down a full bottle of beer, breaking it.
"You idiot! Clean it up!" he pushed her down making her drop the empty beer bottles and land on the broken bits of grass. He walked slowly over to the stairs.
"Get up," he said in disgust, "You hear me?! I said get up! You good for nothing child! Pick up this mess!" he waited until she got up, then headed towards his bedroom. Blood was seeping out from her palms, knees, and stomach. She heard his heavy foot-steps stumble across the floor. Angie limped towards her mother. She still had her head in her hands. As Angie got closer she saw that her mother was bleeding. Blood was escaping her mouth.
"Ma," she said hoarsely, "Where's Leo?" she shook her crying mother. "Ma, where's my baby?" she shook her again, "Talk to me, where's Leo?" Angie became panicked, where was her baby?
"Claire has him," she sobbed, "They're by the well." Angie hurried outside. She saw Claire sprawled on the forest floor. Leo was sound asleep in her arms. Claire was crying.
"Angie," she cried, "I can't, I can't live her anymore. I just came, came home and I came downstairs." She started to cry harder, "His hands were so cold." she added, "... so cold." there was a long pause as Angie's anger mounded.
"Honey, how many times has he done this to you!?!" she said getting on her knees, Claire didn't make eye contact, "Look at me! How long has this been going on?! You need to tell someone!" She held Claire's head, making her look at her, with her bloody hands. Claire started to cry harder. Angie didn't know what to do, she hugged her. That's it, she sat there hugging her little sister, crying with her.
"Hey," said the busboy, "It's closing time." Silently the girl gathered her tattered backpack and left. She walked down the street to a run down apartment complex. There she saw a dark figure standing outside the entrance. The stranger had reddish-brownish hair, his eyes were starring blankly at the ground that he didn't even notice the pale girl walk up to him.
"Pierre," she said stiffly, "what are you doing here?"
"I love you! I can't stand living without you." he said grabbing her arms, "I'm sorry, please can we just--"
"No, Pierre, we can't just talk this over. You left us! You made a choice, and that was to leave us. So, just, just go away," she pushed past him and went inside. How could she love someone that had hurt her so many times? How could he think that she would take him back, after what he did? She quietly tip-toed to her room, making sure not to wake her parents up, she opened her window. She looked at the now purple sky and sighed. She wished she could travel to America, leave this god forsaken town once and for all! She sighed again, she knew she couldn't, she didn't have enough money to leave. And her parents wouldn't pay for it, they couldn't afford it. With the thoughts of leaving France, the young girl fell asleep, only to be awakened by a red haired women.
"Angie," yelled the women up the stairs, "Wake up!" Half awake the girl called Angie, slowly got out of bed and headed for a small bucket of water in a dark corner of her bedroom. She washed her face and looked into the broken mirror next to it. She wanted to see someone worth wild starring back at her, but instead she saw herself, a worthless street rat.
'What's the point in dreaming? I'm never going to be able to leave,' she thought. With that in her mind she got dressed; a plain black tank-top, a pair of jeans, and black sandals. Her friend Olivia, a very beautiful and wealthy American girl, had given her some of her make-up; black eye-liner, red lipstick, and mascara. She quickly crept past her father's bedroom door and went into the kitchen. It wasn't much, just a small refrigerator with a stove that didn't work and a table shoved into the corner. Sitting at the table was the red haired women and a girl with brown hair, maybe fourteen or fifteen. The red haired lady was feeding a baby.
"Good morning darling," the women said. Angie grunted as her response and then sat next to the brown haired girl.
"Angie," the brown haired girl said, "I saw you talking to Pierre last night."
The red haired lady, Angie's mom, looked at her,
"You know he's not allowed here," the girl continued.
"It's not like I asked him to come," she explained, returning the look, "why would I want the little fucker over here?"
"I don't know, I was just saying." then the brown haired girl, whose name is Claire, grabbed her jacket and went outside.
"I think Leo needs a bath," Angie's mother said. She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and wrote a list of things down, "I need you to go and get these at the market. Here's the money." Angie nodded. Her mother left with the baby and Angie sat alone for a while, at least until she heard her Papi's footsteps drag across the floor. That was the signal to go to the market. She put her curly hair into a messy bun and left.
Angie walked down the crowded alleyway, wrapping a huge jacket closer to her. She was always fascinated with the market place. It was filled with interesting things and people. She had met Olivia here... and Pierre. Lost in thought, Angie bumped into a boy with messy jet black hair. He was an American boy. Angie was fascinated by the Americans that visited France, but her Papi hated them.
"A disgrace." he called them. But Angie didn't believe that, she thought that they were interesting people. She loved to watch them interact with someone who could only speak French. She thought it was very amusing.
"Oh, I'm sorry." he said.
"'Ees ok." she said in English.
"Wow, um, you look so familiar."
"I zo? Vell, I know vor a vact zat I 'ave never mez you be 'or," she said trying to speak as clear as possible.
"Hey, um, I don't know, really, where I'm going, Can you help me find this address?" he asked her hopefully.
"Sure." she agreed. She led him to a four star hotel.
"Vell, here iz 'ees," she said.
"Oh, thank you," he said, "Well, I guess I'll see you around."
Yeah, maybe," she said and turned around There was a real chemistry between them. And Angie couldn't help but ask him out.
"Hey, um, mayve ve can 'ee eachot'er." she asked, "Is zare anyzing you are zoing zis week'nd?" At first the boy hesitated, he barley knew this girl.
"No," he stuttered, "but if you want, I mean, if you'd like, we can go out to eat or something. Or you can show me around town, you know, if you'd like too."
She nodded, "I'd love zo!" she said happily. She then gave the boy her phone number, gave him a wink, and left.
By the time she got home her father had just gotten back from work. He was sitting at the small table shoved in the corner. He was just sitting there, staring at the door she had just entered from. Her mother was in the other corner, with her head in her hands. When he spoke his voice was slurred and slow. He was drunk, that was worse then coming home to him angry.
"Angela!" he shouted, his eyes wide and bloodshot, "Pick up these, these damn, damn beer bottles." At first she hesitated, her father was known to do crazy and unpredictable things when he was wasted.
"Now!" he screamed, getting to his feet. Angie jumped and quickly went to pick the bottles up. She accidentally bumped into the table, knocking down a full bottle of beer, breaking it.
"You idiot! Clean it up!" he pushed her down making her drop the empty beer bottles and land on the broken bits of grass. He walked slowly over to the stairs.
"Get up," he said in disgust, "You hear me?! I said get up! You good for nothing child! Pick up this mess!" he waited until she got up, then headed towards his bedroom. Blood was seeping out from her palms, knees, and stomach. She heard his heavy foot-steps stumble across the floor. Angie limped towards her mother. She still had her head in her hands. As Angie got closer she saw that her mother was bleeding. Blood was escaping her mouth.
"Ma," she said hoarsely, "Where's Leo?" she shook her crying mother. "Ma, where's my baby?" she shook her again, "Talk to me, where's Leo?" Angie became panicked, where was her baby?
"Claire has him," she sobbed, "They're by the well." Angie hurried outside. She saw Claire sprawled on the forest floor. Leo was sound asleep in her arms. Claire was crying.
"Angie," she cried, "I can't, I can't live her anymore. I just came, came home and I came downstairs." She started to cry harder, "His hands were so cold." she added, "... so cold." there was a long pause as Angie's anger mounded.
"Honey, how many times has he done this to you!?!" she said getting on her knees, Claire didn't make eye contact, "Look at me! How long has this been going on?! You need to tell someone!" She held Claire's head, making her look at her, with her bloody hands. Claire started to cry harder. Angie didn't know what to do, she hugged her. That's it, she sat there hugging her little sister, crying with her.
