Gotta Love

Agents Rose and Hudson

Alethea's POV

"Michael?" I call out from the kitchen as I chop cucumber slices.

"Yes?" I can hear his deep voice echoing from the living room where he's sitting on the couch watching the telly.

"Can you fetch me a bowl?" I ask.

"Fetch yourself a bowl." He grumbles. I sigh and set down the knife, walking to the other side of the kitchen and grabbing a bowl out of the cupboard.

"Is there a problem?" He asks coldly, appearing in the entry way.

"No." I sAy softly.

"Really? Because I could've sworn I heard you sigh. Almost as if you were annoyed with me. I've given you everything! I took you in from off of the streets, gave you shelter, love, and this is how you repay me? I've done everything for you i hunk you can get your own goddamn bowl!" I set down the bowl and try to calm Michael before he gets more angry.

"Hey hey I'm sorry I'm so sorry I didn't mean it that way I love you." I say frantically.

"No, I'm sick of your ungrateful ass!" He yells and backhands me across the face. I stumble backwards as tears sting in my eyes and I try to keep my balance. He yanks my hair and throws me into the counter.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry!" I yelp.

"Stop saying that!" He yells as he punches me in the face. Dull, hard pain erupts and I fall backwards, slamming into the counter and sliding down onto the ground where I curl up in a ball, shaking. I flinch as Michael gently lays his hand on my shoulder.

"Oh my God... I'm sorry I'm so sorry I didn't mean to." He says, his voice cracking. I look up at him and he takes me into his arms, enveloping me in a big hug.

"I'm so sorry baby I love you." He says into my hair.

"I know, it's okay." I say.

He helps me up. I pick up the bowl from the counter and set it by the cucumbers, where I scoop the pieces in.

My name is Alethea Sorenson. I am twenty six years old. I lived in Washington state with my family my whole life, until, when I was twelve, my parents were killed, a mystery still left unsolved. I lived in an orphanage for a couple years after that, until they transferred me to the foster system. Then it was horrid home after horrid home, some families abusive, others just didn't give a damn. But I never stayed long. Finally, when I turned eighteen, I left the state the first chance I got. I moved to New York, California, all sorts of different states, walking most places, picking up the occasional job. I was homeless and hopeless. Until one rainy Utah day, when I met Michael. I was walking down the historical 25th street, trying to picture it in its former glory, when it started to rain...

I pull my thin jacket tighter around my arms as it starts sprinkling on my head. It was early November, cold, but not yet cold enough for snow. The rain soon turns into a downpour. I huddle under one of the shops awnings, trying to stay dry until I could wait out the storm.

"Hello." I hear a deep and husky voice say to my right. I whip my head towards him, my dark brown hair flipping in front of my face.

"Hi." I say cautiously. He is very attractive, with strong, sharp features, thick dark eyebrows, harsh green eyes, and a pointed nose.

"What's a pretty lady like you doing out here in the rain?" He asks.

"I'm just waiting out the storm." I say and he raises his eyebrows.

"No car?" He asks and I shake my head, "So you're just going to sit out here all day?"

"Yeah." I laugh.