Runaways|| h.s

Chapter one

Darcel Grace

I've always loved the smell of this city, reminds me of so many things. The flashbacks. Some terribly bad and sad, and some incredible which I will cherish forever. After so many I travelled, this is by far, my favourite city. Bradford, my hometown.

—

'A room for one, please.' I place my order at the counter.

'One, miss?' A black-haired, pierced bloke asks me. I nod giving him a slight smile. 'There you go.' He hands me a bronze coloured-rusted key and returns the smile. '23 will be your room number.'

—

I jog up the half-worn out wooden stairs, creaking every time I put my feet.

Out of all the hotels, I chose this one. Anyway, I cannot afford any hotel better than this. As devastated as it sounds, I've spent almost all my money roaming around the world for a whole four months. Being a nomad, I am, running away from people. Well, this is my life now, but frankly speaking, it's better than the previous one. I'm happier independent.

I come at the end of the steps allowing myself to step on the floor, avoiding a greenish liquid spread on the floor. Great.

23...23...there! My eyes dart over to the number 23 engraved carelessly on the wooden door of the room. I get a strong grip on my back-pack which was sliding down and approach the room. I put the key inside the lock. Just what I had expected. It's jammed. After some filthy attempts I fail to open the door.

Awesome.

Frustrated, I give the door a fierce push, and the door flings open.

Oh well that was easy. My eyes dart over to the dark of the room, when it adjusts the dark I find two creature, curled up against each other...naked.

I just stand there, my brain in a swirl. What am I watching?

'Fuck off!' A heavy accented voice shouts snapping me out of my trance.

'I'm sorry!' I shout, shutting the door. My god. What did I just see?

What the absolute fuck. I stand in the middle of the hallway, a heavy feeling at the pit of my stomach telling me I'm going to sick any time.

I need to find a washroom. Now.

Running, my hands clamping my mouth even though, no vomit has made it's way out.

I don't care how I look like. Finally my eyes wander off to the sign indicating a washroom for all sexes.

I quickly rush in a closed toilet pouring out all my content.

What a great start to the place I love the most.

'Do you need anything?' A male voice laced with British accent yells from outside.

Although I could have thanked him, the first question comes out of my mouth provided the situation I'm in is,' Who are you?'

'Will some tissues be okay?' He ignores my question.

'Okhay...' I say weakly, not convinced.

'What?'

'Okay!' I say a bit louder.

The footsteps are fading every millisecond but they are audible the next minute.

'Here.' The same voice shouts indicating me that I should open the door. I do what he says and open the door, grabbing the tissues, still not facing him.

'Are you sure they're clean?' I mumble into the tissue already using it.

'Nope, it isn't.'

'What?' I jerk my hands away from my face, looking at him directly. The first thing that catches my attention is his eyes, a shade of bluish-green, a small, mischievous smile and only a few inches taller than me, not much older than me wearing an ADIDAS tee-shirt and tight skinny jeans.