Adopted by Six on Broadway

I Need Your Love

Angel's POV

It was dark when I woke up at four in the morning. I could tell my dad was asleep in the next room. As quietly as possible, I removed two of the tree baggy old sweatshirts I wear at night for warmth, and slid out of my sleeping bag. I quickly shoved my clothes into the ratty suitcase I'd bought from a garage sale for five bucks, and rolled my sleeping bag so tight I could fit it I as well. I packed the rest of my things into my backpack, and leaned it beside the suitcase. My old phone screen read that it was about four thirty now.

I slowly opened the door of the closet, and crept out. I started breakfast for my dad, eggs and toaster waffles. We never have cereal because he said I'm being lazy if I do that, and then he'd hit me.

Once breakfast has started, I begin to clean up the small apartment. The beer bottles and vodka bottles that are emptied take up most of the space in the trash can. It's around seven thirty when everything is clean and breakfast is hot and ready.

My father stumbled into the room. "You all ready to go Ange?" He slurred.

"Yes Father. I'm all packed and everything." I watched him eat his breakfast.  

Once he finished, he ordered me to fetch my things, and then he locked me out of the apartment.

I stumbled through New York City cold and homeless. I had officially been kicked out. My father had signed away all parental rights, and he forgot to put me into the foster system, so I was alone with nowhere to go.

I put my ear buds in, and took out the plastic bag I stored my life savings of thirty dollars and walked around looking for a McDonalds or something. My feet took me to the Brooks Atkinson Theatre, and I passed out outside the door, my things tucked into my pockets.

I don't remember anything, besides someone carrying me somewhere and laying me down in something soft. I was covered by a blanket, and I could hear voices. Six the musical still played in my ears.

Finally when I woke up, a woman with pink hair, and a woman who was short came into my blurry vision.

I started panicking. "Shhh, it's okay." The woman with pink hair said.

"Who are you?" I whimpered, rubbing my eyes to try to see better, unfortunately the combination of practically no sleep, hunger, and tears made it harder.

"My name is Samantha, this is Andrea. We're Broadway's beheaded cousins." Samantha said.

"Sam she might not know what Six is." Andrea told her.

"Wait, you're Samantha Pauly and Andrea Macasaet?" I asked, trying to sit up.

Andrea moved beside me. "Don't try to sit up, you'll get a headache. And yes, I guess you're familiar with the show we're in."

"It's one of my favorites, along with Hamilton and Les Miserables." I blinked to make sure it was all real.

Samantha smiled. "You're a Broadway fan huh. Well, why don't you wake up, and we'll ask why you're here."

My vision only got slightly better. Normally I do not trust people, but this was Six, so I felt comfortable around them. "Well, my name is Angel Flores. When I was six, my mother, Vivica Flores died in a car crash. Afterwards my father became an alcoholic and if I didn't obey him he'd beat me." I traced the bruise on the back of my elbow. "It got worse as time went on, until his friends started coming over more frequently. They'd beat me, and-and do horrible things. I'd start to have panic attacks and they'd beat me more. Eventually my father stopped feeding me unless I complied, and yesterday he signed away all parental control, gave me the papers, and today he kicked me out. except he forgot to put me in foster care so now I have know where to go." By the end I was blubbering and sobbing like a baby. 

Samatha and Andrea looked alarmed and started comforting me. "You can stay here for as long as you need, and we'll help you." Samantha told me gently. "You can stay in our spare dressing room, and we already put you things in there."

"I can't ask you to do that." I cried.

"You're not." Andrea told me. "We told you we'd do it. Please let us help you. Why don't we feed you. Brittney Mack keeps a stash of food she thinks no one knows about." 

Samantha nodded, and watch Andrea get up and dig through a box tucked into the corner. She pulled out some popcorn. "Here eat this, and I'll gab you some water from my dressing room." Samantha said gently.

"Thank you Mrs Pauly."

"You can call me Samantha, or Sam, or whatever you feel comfortable with, what did you say your name was again?"

"Angel, but if I had friends, I'd ask them to call me Angie like Angie from the Prom."

"Well you have two friends now Angie." Samantha said before leaving the dressing room.

"Thank you for doing this Ms Macasaet." I told Andrea.

"Call me Andrea. Or Dre. None of the formal stuff. Angie, we're just like you, only famous I guess. We're still normal." Andrea watched me shovel popcorn into my mouth.

"When was the last time you ate?" Samantha asked, reentering the room.

"A week and a half ago." I replied quietly.

They looked shocked. "Is your guest awake?" It was Anna Uzele.

"It's Anna Uzele." I dropped the water bottle.

"Are you a Six fan?" She asked.

I couldn't respond, so Samantha did for me. "This is Angie, she's having a tough time. So she's staying in the theatre for a bit. She loves Six."

"Nice to meet you Angie. It's time for rehearsal, but if you two are occupied we can cancel." Anna said.

They all looked at me. "It's okay. You can go." I said the last part quietly and hoped they wouldn't notice.

"No." Andrea replied. "We'll be there in a minute. Let's just get Angie settled." We walked to the spare dressing room with had a couch with a blanket and a coupe pillows and nothing else. My suitcase and backpack were placed neatly beside them. They helped me set up the couch like a bed, and told me to sleep, and they'd check in before their show. I slowly drifted off.

Samantha Pauly's POV

During rehearsal I kept thinking about Angie.

"Are you okay Sam?" Abby asked.

"I just keep thinking about that girl Angie." I admitted.

"Well, maybe you should foster her. That way you could take care of her." Abby suggested.

"That's a good idea. Thanks Abby."

After rehearsal, I talked to Andrea, who agreed to sign on as co-guardian. We went to check on Angie and found her hyperventilating, hugging her side in her sleep.