Pipsqueak (BEING EDITED)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Freya hadn't spoken to Rosie in at least a month-but it felt like a century. She'd lost the second beat to her heart, she felt like the sky had lost it's stars, the sun wasn't as hot and the wind wasn't as cold. Music sounded silent and books seemed blank. Someone had thrown a bucket of grey paint on her canvas, blocking away the colour that was seeming to seep through.

Freya couldn't talk to her mother about her feelings-her mother would never agree with any of it. But Freya couldn't keep bottled up forever, so she turned to the only other person she trusted-Louis.

Both Louis and Freya were sat in the local cafe. Louis had a long macchiato infront of him, half of it had already disappeared. His dirty blonde beard had been combed and hung shortly from his jaw with pride. His eyes glistened-the long eyelashes on his lids seemed to make them even more stunning. His unruly hair had been tied back in a loose bun. He wore a dark red plaid shirt that complimented his muscly figure and arms in the best way.

Freya thought that Louis was a hipster, and that she would definitely like him if she was straight.

"Have you spoke to Rose?" Freya asked, looking up from her hot chocolate.

Louis nodded in reply, sipping his caffeinated drink.

"Is she okay?" Freya pried, part of her needing to know that Rosie was hurting as much as she was.

Louis paused, lowering his glass to the table as he wiped the froth out of the bristles of his beard, "To say it lightly, she's gone back to old habits."

"Drugs?" Pain rose in Freya's chest as the anticipation stung her.

"What? No no no, that was only at Katie's funeral. She's never taken drugs in any other situation. But anyway, it'd be easier to show you, what're you doing tonight?"

"Nothing." Freya replied.

"Be ready for seven." Louis stated, earning a hesitant nod from Freya in return.

—————

Freya met Louis down the road, wearing a black hoodie that hung loosely off of her slender frame. Under that, she wore some grey joggers. The dark colours didn't suit her one bit, they took away her bright personality and made her seem down and depressed.

They walked in silence, Freya following him blindly as he stalked to the high street. He wrapped one arm around her tiny waist and turned abruptly, making her walk down a thin alley way that stunk of strong whiskey and urine.

"What're we doing?" Freya piped up, her heart pounding against her chest-she was afraid it would fracture her rib cage.

"Seeing Rose." Louis murmured, and it became obvious to her that he was on edge just like her.

He knocked metal door and guided Freya inside once it was open. There were hundreds of people, mainly men. They were all chanting loudly, the heavy smell of sweat and cheap cologne clustered in Freya's nostrils. She stepped carefully-like Louis-trying to avoid broken glass and used needles.

"Over there!" Louis yelled over the chaos, and Freya looked in the direction he was pointing.

There, stood a seventeen year old girl, in a fist fight with a man at least twice her age.

Rosie's hair was slick back with sweat and held weakly by a band. Her skin glistened lightly in the yellow light. Her eyes were dark and held a black vehemence. She wore a grey crop top that hung off of her toned figure-it was damp with her sweat and stained red with droplets of blood. Freya saw the blood dripping from the side of her head; more specifically her eyebrow.

Now Freya knew why she hasn't seen Rose; Rosie had been fist-fighting in this underground piece of shit for money.

Her heart shattered-she didn't like this new Rosie. The Rosie who inflicted pain upon herself-Freya hated it. She needed to intervene, to step in before any more damage was done.

But what could she do? They had only just started another round.

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Thanks for reading! Sorry it took so long :-/

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