The next week

From Create Your Own Story

(Difference between revisions)

Wattle123 (Talk | contribs)
(Created page with 'Gabriel's delivering of Wren's food had become the highlight of her day. They would talk about everything and nothing whilst she ate her food. She was still skin and bones, but s…')

Current revision as of 10:55, 3 July 2015

Gabriel's delivering of Wren's food had become the highlight of her day. They would talk about everything and nothing whilst she ate her food. She was still skin and bones, but she was definitely in a better state physically than she'd been before.

Sliding through the clothes in her wardrobe, Wren picked out a light, beige colored dress with sleeves that hung low around her wrists and puffed shoulders that made her look elegant as well as innocent.

Sliding the brush through her long dark hair, Wren noticed that the bruises around her wrists had long faded. Smiling, she flipped her hair over one side of her shoulder as the slight creak of the door sounded announcing Gabriel's arrival.

Almost tripping over her feet, Wren bounded around her corner smiling brightly at the blue eyes that belonged to Gabriel.

"Hi," She said.

Gabriel smiled, "Hi,"

Gently laying the tray down Gabriel looked around looking a little lost. Wren sat down on the couch before asking, "Do you wan't to sit down?"

Nodding Gabriel sat himself down next to Wren, worry etched across his face. "Whats wrong," Wren asked.

Looking over at her, Gabriel sighed, "He's coming back next week, that's whats wrong."

Wren stiffened beside him, before she felt the calloused touch of Gabriel's fingers, nothing like Donovan's which were soft yet violent. Tightening her fingers around his, Wren asked "How did you end up here?"

Looking slightly taken aback, Gabriel looked forward, "I never knew my mother, but my father liked to gamble, decided to take a loan so he could keep on gambling, wen't into debt, and decided to pay with me," he paused, "That person just happened to be Donovan, there's a few people in this place with the same story."

Placing her other hand on top of his, she asked, "How old were you?"

Then, in barely a whisper, he replied, "Fifteen."

Breathing in Wren felt anger bubble up in her stomach, how could someone be so horrible?

Turning his head, Gabriel looked into Wren's eyes, clear as day they weren't clouded with some poker face facade nor were they haunted like so many other times she'd looked into them.

Wren could feel her heart speeding up as well as the small hitch in Gabriel's breath and suddenly, the room seemed to small.

What does Wren do?