Hope (A Tragic Short Story)

Pt. 1

She was shivering in the mud-stained streets of Seattle. She pulled her knees close to her chest and hugged her thin layers of clothing. Her family hated her, she had no friends, nobody loved her, she was completely alone. Her family thought of her to be a disgrace and sent her to an orphanage at the age of 10. The caretakers at the orphanage were cruel to her and she couldn't put up with it any longer, so she ran away. Glaring at her blurry reflection in a puddle, she hated herself for being so childish and running off. At least she had a roof over her head and some food at the orphanage, but now she had nothing. A car rushed by and sprayed her only rags she called clothes, leaving her completely soaked and dirty. Greasy tears began to cloud her vision and she realized that she had no hope left.

"Wow, you look awful," a raven-haired boy, about her age, with blue eyes clearer than any sky she had ever seen, approached her and held a basic, black umbrella over her head. The girl gritted her teeth and scoffed at the blunt comment.

"Thanks, I'm aware," the girl retorted.

"Oh, so you're beautiful and funny? I think I can work with that. How about we get you cleaned up and out of the rain?" The boy's laugh mesmerized the girl. No one had ever spoken to her in such a warm tone. She looked at him with a shine in her deep, brown eyes, seeing hope for the first time. He held out his hand and the girl hesitantly stretched her grimy hand to his spotless one. He grasped her hand and pulled her out of the dark abyss she thought she would never leave.

"The name is Chance Coburn, nice to meet you. Do I have the honor of knowing yours?" Chance raised a dark eyebrow that perfectly contrasted his pale skin. The girl fidgeted and avoided his glance, unsure of what to say.

"I don't know my name anymore. It was given to me long ago by people who didn't want me and, in recent years, my name has been merely a number," the girl mumbled.

"You don't have a name?! Well then, I guess I will just have to give you one. How about 'Laurenza'? I've always loved that name. Oh, you'll need a last name too! Let's see... 'Evans'? No, how about 'Griffin'? Yeah, I like that because a griffin is a powerful, mythical creature who leaves people in awe as you do! So how about it, Laurenza Griffin?" Laurenza smiled at Chance's proposition but was puzzled at why this stranger cared so much. She shook off the questions and decided to go along with it because she was addicted to the feeling of being cared about. She hovered next to the saint-like boy and wandered with him to a nearby hotel. Chance motioned for Laurenza to sit down, while he went up and bought a room. She sank in the plush seat as she noticed people turning their noses up at her. She was about ready to leave when her hero came back to her.

"I can only afford one room for right now, but I wanted you to be able to change out of the soggy mess you're wearing. I've already called to have some clothes brought straight to the room for you. Also, don't worry about the price of any of this! It's on me, I promise!" Chance flashed a convincing smile at the broken girl, who repaid his actions with her own smile. Laurenza couldn't remember the last time she had smiled and now she had smiled twice in one day. The two teens hurried up to their room and Chance unlocked the door. The room wasn't too capacious, but it had a bathroom and two beds. Laurenza sat on the dingy tiles of the bathroom floor, not wanting to track mud through the room. Chance hung his umbrella on the door handle and walked over to Laurenza. He kneeled next to her and took off a black backpack he had been wearing. He pulled out a hairbrush and grabbed a snow-white towel off the bathroom's metal towel rack. The dark-eyed girl gazed at the compassionate boy and kept her eyes on him as he brought the towel and brush over to her. He tucked the towel under her matted, brown hair and attempted to dry it off.

As Chance was running the brush through Laurenza's tangled hair, there was a knock on the hotel room's door. Chance gently set the brush down and indicated for Laurenza to stay there. Laurenza peeked from in the bathroom doorway to see Chance trading a deliverer money for a medium-sized bag. He shut the door and made his way back to the baby fawn who looked at him with starry eyes. Her eyes were tainted with pain and the inability to trust, which hurt the boy to look at. He handed Laurenza the pastel pink bag and left her to get changed. He waited patiently by the side of the room he had claimed and gazed out the window into the typical dreary setting of Seattle. He clenched his fist and held it close to his heart, as he made a promise to protect the girl he had found.

Chance knew it was a strange thing to just pick a stranger off the street and decide that you would protect them with your life, but he knew she was the one. Laurenza also wasn't a complete stranger to him, although she had no recollection of knowing him. Chance used to live in the same orphanage but was adopted about two years ago. He was quite intrigued by her for she was much older than the average age of the children at the orphanage. The orphanage "caretakers" were always quick to gossip, so it wasn't hard to find information about the older, quiet girl. From what Chance observed, Laurenza wouldn't speak to anyone, even if that meant she was to receive a beating. When she wasn't doing work for the caretakers she would be found writing in a tattered and torn journal. Chance had gotten a glimpse at her journal once and it looked to be poetry. He always kept an ear out for the mention of Laurenza's number, 38, in the gossip of the caretakers. He picked up that Laurenza was not the child of the man her mother was married to. However, her mother refused to admit to that fact and said that Laurenza was a deformed, disappointing child. It was obvious that Laurenza had some other genes in her for she had golden-tan skin, whereas her mother and her mother's husband were both quite pale. Laurenza's mother hated her daughter's skin and made sure to cover it in bruises when she had the chance. The caretakers loved to joke about Laurenza's story and would often make fun of her for it. Chance's blood boiled as he reflected back on the memories of how the caretakers treated Laurenza.

Chance's story wasn't too different himself, so he empathized with Laurenza quite easily, causing him to form a sort of attachment to her. Chance's mother died in childbirth and his father fell into a state of severe depression. His father remarried quickly and turned to alcohol to cope with the loss. All of Chance's childhood he was told that he was his mother's murderer and that if he wasn't born she'd still be here. Chance would cry and cry, only to be met with either his father or step-mother's unforgiving hand. Chance was sent to the orphanage at the age of six.

"Chance, are you alright?" Chance jumped at the sound of Laurenza's voice. Laurenza was wearing light-washed jeans with a black belt and a red sweater. The bold red elegantly complimented her golden skin and rich brown hair. Heat began to claw at Chance's cheeks and he shook his head to break the stare.

"Nothing! Well, actually, maybe instead of staying here we go back to my parents' house. There's a lot more space there and... um... yeah, let's just head there," Chance stumbled over his words and picked up his bag and umbrella. Laurenza was befuddled as to why they were leaving when Chance had paid to stay one night, but she shrugged her shoulders and obediently followed. Chance hailed a cab and the two rode in complete silence. Laurenza couldn't stop running her fingers through her hair, for she had no memory of the last time it was brushed. This kept her entertained until something out of her window caught her eye-- a mansion sequestered by an ocean-side forest of emerald green.