Never Seen Anything Quite Like You Too (A The Script Fan-fiction)

11) Glen

The next few days I spend in the studio working on my first ever portrait. The visual image of my mother bubbling away under the pressure of acid rain.

I'm not particularly happy with it and I doubt I will sell it but I had to get it off of my chest. It's an image that has haunted my mind for the past few days. It's so horrible you can imagine why that would be the case.

I head over to my market stall whilst battling the rain. I had placed the paintings in a bag and I hugged the bag to my chest. No matter how horrific one of the paintings is, I have still spent a lot of time on them and I have injected my soul into them too. I'm not about to let them be ruined by the elements.

Once safely inside my stall I shook off my drenched coat and placed it out of sight. I hung up the new paintings but kept the horrid painting under the counter; I don't want my clients to be put off.

The rain plummeted down against my hut. It's like the world is crashing down on me and dripping off over the sides like the rain drops are doing.

"I never got your name," Came a male voice from behind me.

I spun around and saw the blue eyed guy from a couple of days ago. I can't even remember his.

"Too bad I can't remember yours," I said.

He smiled. I'm not sure if I trust that smile. Or maybe it's the fact that his associate has stolen from me.

"That's a shame," He said.

So he won't tell me his name. Fine. I turned my back on him and examined the painting I had just hung up. A landscape painting. A field. A few trees. Blue sky above it. Behind the trees is a a road busy with cars. The effects of mankind on nature.

"It's Glen. Glen Power," I heard.

I don't turn around. I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me smile. He doesn't deserve that. Not after what his friend has done. Oh stop it Siena. It was his friend not him. Cut him some slack. He brought back the painting didn't he? Guilty by association is what plagues my mind though.

"Siena," I said without turning.

"Not going to grace me with your last name?"

"Why should I?"

"I told you mine,"

"Your friend stole from me,"

"What's that got to do with last names?"

"You might be here on his orders. Trying to find out more about me. I never know,"

Glen laughed. I turned around and glared at him. His laughter stopped. His grey hoodie was drenched from the torrential rain.

"I'm not here on his orders. Here just see this," He said.

He plunged his hand into his pocket and brought out his iPhone 4. He unlocked it and tapped a bit more before handing his phone towards me.

"He's been wondering where I am," Glen explained.

I narrowed my eyes as I scanned the texts. A lot of them were 'dude where are you?' And 'oi Power? Where've you fucked off to?' I handed his phone back.

"How do I not know that you told him to send those texts?"

He frowned slightly.

"You're a tricky one aren't you?"

"No. Just ... Cautious," I defended.

"You've got my word. That's all,"

I lean forward and watch as the little raindrops drip from his hood and onto the ground below.