Escape To Paris

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CHAPTER ONE - The Molsens

Tonight I would do it. Tonight I would run away. To Paris. I would start a new life, meet new people, get away from the horrible Molsens. I glanced at the clock. 8:30. The Molsens would be going soon. And then I will be free. Why had I never thought about this? Maybe because I wasn't old enough. Well, now I am.

"Kaylani! Get down here!" screeched Mrs Molsen. I sighed and quickly climbed down the attic ladder.

I lived with my foster parents, the Molsens, in London. You may think it's cool to live in such a big city, but... it's not that great. It was amazing at the start, all of the tall buildings and the famous Big Ben and all of that. But after a few years I soon got tired of it all. Maybe it was just the Molsens. Maybe I would've been happier if I lived with someone else.

I was kind if like the Molsens' servant. I cooked, cleaned, took phone calls, did the shopping and ran errands for them. I did go to school but I hardly had any time for homework because I was always so busy. So I usually had to stay up late to finish it and

as a result I was usually tired and overworked. I didn't have many friends either. There was one girl at school, Sophie, that I sometimes ate lunch with, but she had other friends and usually left me alone. Then there was this other guy, Thomas. He sometimes hung around me, but we didn't talk much. He was usually off with his other geeky friends hacking the school wifi and playing World of Warcraft.

Why do I care, anyway? Soon all of that will be gone.

I opened the door to the Molsens room. Mrs Molsen was standing in front of the mirror, her hair sitting strangely on her head, her eyes a mess and her lipstick too dark. She was wearing a green dress that was too tight around her pudgy stomach, to revealing at the chest and too short for her chubby legs.

"Ugh!" she turned around. I suppressed a chuckle.

"Do you want some help?" I asked politely. Mrs Molsen looked flustered.

"Well, I could do it perfectly myself, it's just the mascara was all blobby and the lipstick was a little-"

"Just let me do it," I interrupted, trying to hold my frustration down. I took some moisturizer and makeup pads and told her to wipe it all off. Once that was done I began to lightly brush her face with powder.

"Now we don't want to put too much or you'll look like a doll," I explained. Next I brushed on some blush and then I picked up the mascara brush.

"Now, hold very still," I instructed. I successfully completed the mascara. The lipstick was last and I put that on too.

Now for the hair. I grabbed a hairbrush and began to brush out all the knots. Then, taking a few bobby pins, twirled if up into a pretty bun and pinned it there. With the leftover stragglers I heated up the curling wand and finished them. Last of all I sprayed on a coat of hairspray.

"Now have a look," I said as Mrs Molsen turned around. It was a pretty good makeup and hair job, but it was a pity it was on such an ugly face.

I could tell Mrs Molsen wanted to thank and compliment me, but she was much to proud for that. Instead she sniffed and said, "hmm, well, I could have done a better job but I suppose this will have to do," and flounced out of the room. I groaned and followed her out into the sitting room. Mr Molsen was sitting on the lounge with a newspaper. I sat down in my usual spot on the floor. I wasn't allowed to sit on the lounge. And I wasn't allowed to use their bathroom. Or sit at the table with them, either. I had my own little tiny tub and toilet and sink in the attic, along with a mattress, a shelf and a broken wardrobe.