Alani Ember
A sassy, emotional teenage girl who just happens to have a not so good life.
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Asher King
A quick witted, emotionally unattached teenage boy, with a matching life of his own. Yet he manages to make Alani's life a little better.
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He s...
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Alani's POV
If you think limping down the stairs is easy, you are very wrong.
Maybe if your stairs have stable railings then, sure. But in my apartment, the railing would infect me with countless diseases, and I'd rather fall than have that happen.
Also, if you have an abusive father, limping down the repugnant stairs of your 'home' in the rain might become a common experience.
The only reason my dad let me out of the house today was to buy him some beer. Not like he cared that sending your daughter out with a limp is just the slightest bit suspicious.
But hey, this is L.A. No one notices anything unless the paparazzi is glued to it.
And no one notices me, a teenage girl in oversized clothes, limping down the sidewalk, tears welling in her eyes. In the rain, might I add. Or him, the obviously depressed teenage boy sitting on the curb of a liquor store with regret racking his body in waves.
But I'm not like the rest of L.A.
I never have been, and I doubt I ever will be.
Still, I noticed him right away, as his attention is turned to me. I wish I could say he was ugly, but lying is not my forte, so I'll just be honest-
He was pretty damn hot.
His gaze never showed any emotion, locking on me blankly, as if looking through me to the rainy street in the background. More intriguing were his eyes - a ring of grey was wrapped around his pupil protectively, blocking the rest of his lapis colored eyes out.
I kept walking, trying to conceal my limp as well as I physically could. His eyes followed my movements as I entered the shop, my heart trying to beat it's way out of my chest.
He was a freak. A loner with a broken life. Alone, in his own little broken world.
And my heart reached out for him. For that feeling I knew all so well, fresh pain.
It wasn't that hard to see the tension in his slightest movements, the way his eyes were still a little glossed over, and the remnants of a fake smile that was so often glued on his face. I tend to notice when I'm in the presence of someone like that.
